I used to wonder what in the world was wrong with my parents. There were several items wondering me, but a major was the weather. My brother and I could not imagine why they cared. So it rained. So what? So it looked like it might rain. And? Or snow. Or sleet. How could it matter?
The speculation changed by the season. In the summer, how hot would the day be? Thunderstorms? They terrified Mama. No rain? There goes the vegetable garden. I recall heavy snowfall. Getting to work could be tricky for my Dad. Such a preoccupation stymied us.
Then I grew up. And aged.
On rising this morning I did what I do: I opened the window and stared out at the unwelcome gloom. It’s colder this morning. Lowering clouds threaten rain. Tuning in to the weather channel I see an unwanted forecast. Gloom and maybe rain today, but tomorrow promises a gullywasher. I eye my still warm bed and think to climb back in. Snooze away the morning. I have the luxury to waste the day. However, I am not practiced in the role of layabout.
It is computer guru day. I might as well adopt my favorite tech person. She comes once a week, like a welcome habit. She teaches me things I didn’t know I need. I still stumble around my computer in new arenas that need to be mastered. I execute commands I never used before, and I do many of them automatically now, without my notes. She’s worth the rate she charges, which is, fortunately, quite reasonable. And she’s often just a phone call away and bails me on days she isn’t scheduled to come. I suppose I am addicted, but hey, it’s not like shopping. And I learn so much.
The rest of the day will be spent culling my closet. Again. I have been decades clinging to fave things that have not fit since my wedding day. Finally I realize I am not throwing me away. Just things. Outdated, well worn items that, as soon as they have departed, will be right back in style. But will never again fit. Will look silly on a woman of my years even if they did. I mean, bell bottoms? White knee high boots? With block heels? I detest my closet. It looks like the bring and buy store in there. How many purses does one woman need? Ah, but they are all evidence of my buying habits. Some (that I no longer carry) are pretty pricey. I remember when I had just one hand bag forever. It was my PURSE. I don’t know when it happened that I needed more than one. Or twenty.
I know I will feel lighter once I have completed this necessary house cleaning. I’ll bake a spice cake and ice it with bourbon vanilla later and treat myself to a slice for having cleansed my closet. As soon as guru leaves.
thestewofstory 