Today I was doing some inside chores while the spring rain cleared the air.
I decided to change the blankets on the bed to a flowered lightweight cover. Then it hit me.
This is a task I have not done for 30 years.
I guess I have been too busy or exhausted or too distracted to worry about the little things that make a house a home.
Pushing a vacuum, washing the dishes, changing the sheets are chores all new to me.
The past year I’ve washed clothes and then put them back on. The dishes are down to a cup and a plate, but most meals are heated in the microwave in the cup. The bed doesn’t need to be made up, just fold the covers over and it will sit until the evening.
This atmosphere reminds me of the college day’s apartment. The bed isn’t on the floor but the attitude of cleaning and decorating is not at the top of my to-do list.
As I ride through the neighborhood after the rain cleared, I ponder what I have been doing for the past three decades.
How did the dishes get washed, the clothes changed, the windows cleaned, the lawn watered, the curtains hung, the rugs vacuumed, the shoes polished, the food cooked?
Then it hit me.
I’m a Nimrod!
I’m a hunter, gatherer, and provider for others.
But do I know how to care for myself?