Danka's World

In the last four or five months, my life has completely switched directions. For years it was go, go, go. All the time. And because of the busy-ness, I was forced to be organized. Super-organized. I’m still pretty organized, and I always have been. It is my nature I guess. But when life and schedules crossed the border of crazy, my organization was knife-sharp.

Not so much now. My grocery and supply shops are not well planned. They are sporadic, and I seem to either forget half a dozen important items, or go for ten items and end up re-stocking the whole house. Speaking of the house, it is less clean than it has been in ages. The family budget is – well I don’t even know where the family budget is. The laundry is piled in the closet. Instead of starting a new project every couple of days, all of my current projects are on hold. I’ve been writing, yes, but I haven’t been working on anything specific. I haven’t rearranged a single piece of furniture or painted a single room (save for the foyer but it doesn’t count since it had to be done) since we moved in. I’m not myself.

In the same vein, this blog has kind of gone to rot. And I’m kind of sorry for that, but kind of not.

I have so much free time that I always think I’ll do it later, but then I don’t.

This is what I do: I read. I water the lawn. I spontaneously go out in to public and meet friends. I take the kids to the library, to the water park, to church. I lay on the grass in the sun, without sunscreen and without a hat, but with a novel. I sit in the hammock with a novel. I lay on the couch under a blanket, with a novel. I bake. I read. I go on the Wii. I go for a walk. I read.

Sometimes I go to work, but usually not when I tell my boss I’ll be there. I say ‘Hey, Michelle, I’ll probably be in tonight to do this and that.’ And then I show up the next morning instead and do this and that and a handful of other things too because I feel bad.  But she doesn’t seem to mind. Nice boss, eh? To so acquiesce in my laziness.

Occasionally I still have a day where the panic feeling rises and I worry about all that I’m not accomplishing, and that someone out there is looking on with disapproval. But then I remember that it’s just me. I’m the only one who cares about what I do or don’t do in a day. And I remind myself that I’m in a season of rest, a season that inevitably will come to an end, and so I grab a novel and head out to the hammock or walk the kids to the park and stare at the clouds and feel really tiny in the universe and really happy. Just for now. Just for a while.