Part 2: Resets
The beauty of the Sunday afternoon chores, in addition to creating a zen moment before winding up for the assaults of phone calls and emails and appointments that can come between 9am Monday and 5pm Friday, is that they serve as a sort of reset. A blessed, welcome reset. Whatever was undone from the week before is still undone (LOL!), but nobody died because of it. The cans of cat food that didn’t get moved from the kitchen counter to the bin in the pantry? Not lethal, it turns out. I didn’t have it in me, Wednesday evening, to move those cans to the bin. I just didn’t. One or two or three of us in this house had had a doctor visit, or there was a pile of paperwork with a deadline, and it was all we could do to three-musketeer (three-stooge?) through that particular endeavor before we collapsed.
But, now, it’s Sunday afternoon. Tomorrow is a new start, with a new list of responsibilities and schedules, sure, but for now, I can luxuriate in moving those cans of cat food from this counter to that bin. That’s all that’s required of me in this moment. It’s delicious. It’s delicious, and it’s necessary. I am angry at cancer for so many things, but oddly thankful for this lesson that the small chore in the right time can be a way to wipe a slate clean before moving forward. A way to acknowledge what was done, forgive what wasn’t, laugh about it, and start from zero once again.
And, if I try really hard, maybe I’ll even commit to that actual hour of work in the morning, instead of getting it swept off the board. Maybe I’ll be that organized. Maybe I’ll structure the day around what needs to get done, and finish the necessities with verve and focus, and by virtue of that organization I might have several hours to give to one of those back-burner projects.
And, if I don’t, that’s okay, too. I will have replaced the light bulbs, and wound the clock, and moved the cat food from the counter to the bin. That’s a lot, and that’s enough.