The air is sweet with jasmine, and I am hanging washing on the line in the dark, because I haven't had a chance to do it in the daytime for 5 days, between work and family things. In the background, I can hear the hum of traffic of the freeway, and the click-clack of trains headed for the station. A warmish breeze is stirring the trees; the dog and the 3 year old are chasing each other through the starry-skied back garden, she laughing, he panting.
The house is a mess...
and I have more work to do than hours to do it...
and I have an overwhelming backlog of life stuff that hasn't been done and won't be done...
and I'm tired, and cold-ridden, and tempted to feel sorry for myself...
Until I realise that I'm not cold, outside, at 7pm.
Until I remember that all my children are healthy, and often happy, and love me.
I send thoughts to all the parents who are worried and fearful and suffering with their children tonight.
Until I reflect that all this work means a new, efficient air conditioner for summer, and paying off a longstanding debt mountain in full, and a holiday for next year.
It's so, so good to be not in financial straits for the first time in years.
Until I realise that a messy house is a lived-in house, the house of people busy living their lives.
After all, I don't want my epitaph to be "She had a really, really shiny sink!"
I'm pretty blessed, all in all. It is good to remember that.
Hello From Phoenix Comic Con
3 hours ago