June 5, 2019

I’ve got my fingers crossed. My two lilac trees are somewhat behind the rest of the lilacs in our area. However, there are good buds there, and my fingers are crossed that they will bloom this year, and within the next four to five days.

You see, I still have vibrant lilies of the valley blooming, and I really do want those two scents mingled for my olfactory delight. Yes, it’s a little thing, but I am currently out of big things, and will take my pleasures where I find them, however small they may be.

I’ve managed to excavate my desk, grateful to discover there was indeed an antique oak library desk beneath all the accumulated papers and such I had stacked upon it. I’m thinking this new habit of mine—letting things pile up—is a late-arriving protest after years of working in an office, where one’s desk needed to be tidy and free of “litter” all the time. Except of course, if one was on vacation.

Then there was that one time when I went back to work after a one week vacation; before leaving, I had made a comment that questioned the value of a week off when one returned to a week’s accumulated work and had to then spend a week working twice as hard. The company boss overheard my comment. He told me then and there that he would inform my supervisor that my work was to be covered while I was gone. Of course, when I returned, my desk looked pristine. He came over, beaming, and told me he’d kept an eye on my desk, and wasn’t I pleased? I held his gaze as I opened the drawer and pulled out the more than two hundred documents that had accumulated in my absence: company bills that needed to be paid, many of them within the week.

He was so angry his instructions had not been met, he gave me two more days off with pay as a consolation prize, which just proved to me the man didn’t get it, period.

There might be a bit of that in my latest habit of not stuffing things away until I can deal with them properly; or I could just be getting into that “who cares?” portion of life’s program. I believe I previously noted in one of these essays that I don’t have any rat’s butts left to give. I thought there might be a shipment on route, but sadly, I’ve seen no signs that there is.

More likely, that old adage, “out of sight, out of mind” is at play here, as well. Because now, as never before, that adage is a literal reality for me. So I keep things where I can see them in the faith and hope that I will eventually deal with them.

Regardless of the reasons behind this new habit, I do believe that it’s perfectly okay for my attitude about certain things to change as I get older. It’s not a sign of any mental deficiency, but rather, an acknowledgement on my part that there is a bit more of a physical deficiency than I would like. Each day I think of what my “to-do” list comprises, and each day I realize I need to revisit my thinking. The truth is, I simply don’t have the stamina to do all I would like to do in a day.

I was a bit more graceful in coping with the first wave of physical limitations, the most obvious being: no more work done on the knees. No gardening, and no scrubbing of floors. That second one might sound to some of you like a blessing. But I loved gardening, and I’m sorry, I don’t care what mop you use, the floor simply does not get as clean as it can be if one does not take to one’s knees with a sturdy scrub brush and a bucket of cleanser—followed by one of clear water to rinse with.

When I shared that opinion with a friend, she opined, “you can’t tell me that, able-bodied, you’d still be scrubbing the floors on hands-and-knees if you won the lottery.” And she was right. If I won the lottery I likely would not continue to do so, even if I was physically able.

But you can be certain I would then hire someone else to do it.

Love,
Morgan
http://www.morganashbury.com
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury