So, I said things had been going pretty rough. I can’t talk about that.
But I have to admit that, deep down, I’m a silver lining kind of girl. I just can’t dwell on the negative.
And, I managed to pull off my first ever french twist a few weekends ago all by myself. Hairspray was involved, but it lasted through a whole (harrowing) day. Pretty baller.
I’ve been finding lots of strange, unexpected joys. Like…I’m really enjoying keeping a house.
I did four loads of laundry, scrubbed down the kitchen and the bathroom, swept, and cooked three meals for five over that hideous weekend. It was wonderful. Seeing everything all tidy, down to the dish towels in the kitchen drawer, gives me such perfect contentment. If you knew me in real life, you might stage an intervention at this point (and if you do know me, don’t bother – it’s a lost cause at this point, because my weekends have been spent arranging flowers, scrubbing baseboards, and re-folding sheets so they better fit the linen closet for some weeks now).
Then there’s cooking. I’ve always been the chef of the house, but I’ve found a new perspective somewhere.
It’s not just about flavors and ingredients and nutrients. It’s about nourishment, tenderness, and love.
Making a blank-slate apartment into a cozy home, choosing to make healthy, tasty food – it’s all about giving love in the here and now, and hopefully building up some of that love for the future. It’s about correcting mistakes from the past and putting the world right again, one dust mite at a time.
I guess I’m already supposed to know that, but clearly I was raised by wolves who didn’t keep a house.
Traditions that endure do so because they’re of value.