Yesterday I volunteered to be a project director for a council so buried under proposed projects they are frantic.
I’ve set myself the project of finding a project director for each proposed project…
…recognizing that the Council has been too swamped to sort out where one project ends and the next begins.
I woke up with my head in a tangle.
So I sorted our silted up stainless steel ware drawer…
This collection of miscellanea will go to the next community rummage sale while..
This collection of matched pieces — which do NOT match our own set — will first be offered to friends. Then, if any of it comes home, set aside for rummage.
(My husband edited all my choices, agreed on what could go but kept all sorts of pieces he likes to use.)
I had planned this day at the heart of the luxurious midsummer 4th of July long weekend to be my one completely unscheduled day. A day to do nothing at all “by the clock” while my mind ran free to walk, to write, to read.
Lo and behold, at eight thirty this morning, my husband precipitously invited a couple I don’t know well (the wife is accustomed to having a housekeeper) to come over for a noon visit. The house hasn’t been vacuumed since May, the bathroom …, yesterday my cat deposited hairballs on the comforter, and there are absolutely no snacks or drinks in the cupboard.
The key to serenity, I am convinced, is to eschew tantrums through a process of mental decluttering. After a short rant among trusted friends…
… I threw out any notion that preparatory house cleaning or worries about entertaining preparations are in any way, shape, or form my responsibility.
… and I determined to salvage as much good stuff as possible.
So, while this post isn’t the post that’s been deliciously marinating in the back of my mind in anticipation of today’s unfettered writing time, it is a post that has something to say and I’ve enjoyed the work of letting it say what it wants to.
And my husband has vacuumed the living room, mopped the kitchen floor and cleaned the bathroom while I have been writing it. (I’d already thrown the comforter in the laundry.)
The excuse for this incursion is that the new bride is bringing us some soup she wants us to believe that she promised us. I’ll respond by serving that up for a light lunch they dare not refuse…
If I decide to go that route.