How are you on this cool autumn morning? Are you gazing at your perfectly pegged fresh laundered linens wafting in the gentle breeze while putting the final touches on that handmade card for next month’s birthdays? Will you be settling down to a breakfast table, prettily laid for one and savor a slice of homemade quiche with a dollop of Summer tomato chutney, followed by a perfectly frothed cappuccino? Yeah, me neither.
For while I have known those perfect days, and I will know them again, today is not that day. Today is a drinking bagged black tea brewed in a giant Halloween mug while scarfing down a bowl of raisin bran day. And that’s OK. Today is a low-spoons day, when I do the bare minimum to see us through the week ahead. To make sure we have clean clothes to wear, enough food to feed us and a kitchen floor clean enough to keep my sweet Mommy from rolling over in her grave, or smacking me upside the head in the dream world. Today is not the day I will be making performance art out of brewing coffee or turning my mantle into something worthy of artistic enshrinement.
While I want to live that perfectly decorated, elegantly cottage, shabby chic life twenty-four seven, it’s not something I’m striving for today. All of the frilly, yummy nonsense of cottage living can wait for another day and I can let everything be enough. Today, I’ll take care of myself. I shall relax and let the warm sun shine through my streaky windows while I enjoy a cup of instant coffee and a pumpkin biscuit, just because. Because my body and soul need a little nurturing today and the laundry will still be there tomorrow.
Dust if you Must – by Rose Milligan
Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?
Dust if you must, but there’s not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.
Dust if you must, but the world’s out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.
Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it’s not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.
Til next time ~stay trippy hippies ~JP