I like getting my house all in order on Sundays. It makes me feel ready for the week when everything is in order. It settles me to know that I start with a clean slate – the housework is done, the clean laundry is put away, and all my ducks are in a row for the upcoming week.
Unfortunately, the settled feeling dissipates quickly once I barrel into the week; but for the golden period that is Sunday evening to Monday morning all feels right with the world. It is curious that order is so soothing to me, as anyone who knows me will tell you that of all the words that come to mind to describe me order is not one of them. Indeed, most folks would likely characterize me as chaotic, often scattered, and sometimes downright disorganized; and, those characterizations often are correct.
Yet, I love order and seek it whenever and wherever I can get it. So far, the place I most often get it is at home, on Sunday evenings. Not that my Sunday evening serenity would get a perfect 10 score from the panel of judges at the Home Olympics. More likely I would get a solid 8 as order is relative to the person creating it. I am okay with that though as my sense or order delivers my sense of peace.
I wish I could insert more order into my life, but for now I am taking it where I can get it and this is it. By midday tomorrow I’ll be spiraling back into my typical weekday chaos, but I always know when and where I can find order once again – Sunday evening, at home.
Day one thousand one hundred and eighty-nine of the new forty – obla di obla da