Balance

It's Thanksgiving, and Facebook is filled with gratitude. Every post lists things we are thankful for, ranging from pets to pies. Maybe we all just need a break, because I haven't seen a lot in the news to be thankful for. Murder, rape, riot, and catastrophe--not to mention Trump, the biggest catastrophe of all-- stream across our televisions, parading current and past scandals and offenses. I, for one, am ready for some good news.

It's easy to list our blessings, large and small. It's easier yet to catalogue all the things we would wish away (Can I get in an early thumbs-down for political ads? and any stories about Harvey Weinstein?) But, today, I'll take my cue from a magazine editorial I read this morning.

We all have a lot of 'everyday' in our lives: things that have to be done that we don't particularly want to do--making beds, doing dishes, unloading the laundry, putting stuff away, feeding the cat, vacuuming...These are all on my personal "Don't wanna" list, along with a number of other delightful activities. The editor that I chanced upon was folding laundry while watching the news. As everyone knows by now, news programs everywhere feature floods, fires, and hurricanes, shootings, robberies, and scams. Here and everywhere around the world.

And here I am, on the comfortable island of my living room, safe and sound, watching the news and complaining about having to decide what to have for dinner. I have choices that so many others don't. There's a refrigerator and freezer and pantry full of inspiration. There are restaurants a block away. I can call on my phone for pizza delivery or for an Uber to take me somewhere else. I have a table and chairs and a bed to sleep in, air-conditioning or heat, or just about anything I might want. And amid all this plenty, the whiny child says, "But what do I want for dinner?"

You get my point. Years of having it all have spawned years of needing more, until we've become eternally dissatisfied, essentially unsatisfiable. We take our lives for granted, when we are, in reality, one storm away from the deluge, one match away from the fire, one bullet away from tragedy. Why is it so hard to say a simple "thank you", then to roll up our sleeves and pitch in to make life a little better for someone else?

So here it is--between the Halloween candy and the Thanksgiving feast, between the adorable children in costume and the inevitable handprint turkeys, between gorging on candy and celebration of endless leftovers...thank you. Now, where's that list of places to start?

100 Loads of Laundry

Today I hit the bottom of the box of dryer sheets that I bought when we moved. That means that, since May 11--5 months ago--I have done 100 loads of laundry, averaging out to about 20 loads every month, more or less. Surely, that has some milestone-level of import. While Eliot's Prufrock measures out  his life in coffee spoons, I apparently choose laundry as my unit of measure.

One hundred baskets of laundry have churned through my life: clean sheets, clean towels, everything from jeans to underwear, from t-shirts to tablecloths, have measured out my days. Each basket represents an hour here, an hour there, tucked between the events and errands of the day.  The significant measured by the insignificant.

And--if we measured what we have accomplished in that laundry-measured period...?? Today I can report that we've plateau-ed out. Most things have a place (though occasionally I will open a closet or cabinet and be surprised by a box or bag or piece of silver that was incongruously placed.) This is when you have to recognize that there comes a time in every move when you just say, "That's enough!" and stop. Some things just have to stay where they are until motivation returns.

That may be Christmas. For now, we've stopped moving and started living again.