"Someone's sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago."
*This is me. Still in my scrubs. No makeup. Hair disheveled. This is typical. Me.
This afternoon Mr. Peculiar was doing dishes while I packed sandwiches for dinner. The pipe to the garbage disposal came undone and filthy water spewed all over our wood floor. This is our life; overwhelming, flooded.
Now that section of floor is unnaturally hygienic. The remaining floor feels left out, embarrassed, inadequate. Who knew it could sparkle so? If only someone had the time.
How much longer can we put our heads down and march through the deluge? At some point our minds or our bodies are going to give. Nobody told me "it" would be this hard.
What is "it"? Take your pick: life, parenting, marriage, housework, love.
Today the sun poured through the trees and painted the walls with light and shadow.
The mail brought me a treasure -- How Not to Write A Novel. I'm told it's a good read.
And now I'm off to work. For lack of a better plan I'll keep planting trees and hope that someday I, too, will get to sit in the shade.