I had plans for the day. Not very big plans; I meant to get
some banking done and do a little decluttering and reorganizing of some boxes
that have desperately needed it for a while. My plans all got derailed early by
MB’s clear need to have somebody to talk to today. So my cleaning and
decluttering and organizing did not happen, but I did order the painting
supplies I’m going to need for repainting the house, and I did gather the Banshees
together to have a discussion about replacing the dead chest freezer with an equivalently-sized
upright freezer, and I did resolve an order for gardening supplies that had
gone somewhat sideways about a month ago.
So, the day wasn’t very productive but it was at least a
little productive.
The Banshees seem to like the way I’ve rearranged my
bedroom; it is apparently very much more ‘me’ in some intangible way. I don’t know
that I will leave it the way that it’s standing but right now I’m having fun.
Putting the bed in the middle of the room was a way to force a re-appraisement of
a score of little habits and points of view that I inadvertently developed over
the last thirty some-odd years. How do I make my room more useful to me?
What should I keep and what absolutely has to go and what should I tackle first
in my attempt to run through my various crafting stashes as quickly as possible?
Is this space a more peaceful space? Every little bit I clear makes it easier
to get on with the next right thing. I will never be minimalist but I am grimly
determined to create a space where all that I have fills me with some form of
joy, of happiness, or just plain old contentment. I like contentment. It’s wanting
what you have, and so much of what I have I really do want. After trying so
hard for so many years to cobble together a relationship that just wasn’t going
to happen, I have the peace of knowing I did my best and letting go of
everything else. My children seem to like me and want the best for me, and for
our little family. I have a roof over my head and the wherewithal to keep the
lights on for at least a little while longer. I have space for my thoughts. I’m
starting to craft my routine. I have, if I can just let myself get there, a
little bit of room to start building things: Furniture, stories, the rest of my
life.
I’m weirdly proud of the fact that I didn’t lie to my
planner. I had tasks that were supposed to be done by the end of the day and
they aren’t done, and I haven’t said they are done and I haven’t extended my
deadline. I’m still figuring out how to fold it into how I do things, rather
than try to bend myself into frazzles to fit into its system. Right now all I’ve
done with it is pretty much listed every single project I want to do as I
remember them, without spending hours and hours attempting to nail down every
single detail. I don’t have those details. I don’t have that time. What I have
is a list of what I want to do and I’m treating it like my attempts at filing:
What I need most right now is a place to pile everything. The sub-filing
details come later when I finally figure out what they are.
It also enables me to figure out what I want or need to
work on right now. Some of what I want to do has to have some structure built
before I can get to it, so those are back-burnered until some more life-construction
has taken place. I can put details in as they occur to me. Some stuff has to be
done now, sort of simultaneously. Okay, but no more than three very different projects
because the sub-headings alone are enough to give headaches. It just won’t work
if I try to make it something it isn’t, or try to make me something I’m not. A
few details, a little at a time, because I’m trying to build a good foundation for
the humble bungalow that’s going to be the rest of my life.
x
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