Step #8 of keeping my writing flowing required me to vacuum and call Jackson County Circuit Court.
I’ve known that distractions are … well, distracting, and that the gradual torture of being nibbled to death by ducks can keep me from doing what I want to do, living how I want to live. And I still manage to forget this on a regular basis.
Currently, I have overdue projects at work (not my fault, but still my responsiblity), papers to file with the court to make certain we don’t lose a third of my income, a snake rack to finish building without the most basic tool needed — a workspace — and the usual little duties that go into living. I have been unable to get a firm grip on all of those things. I have not been sleeping well, or enough. I have, in fact, been degrading into an utter mess.
Saturday, Shannon declared that, while I was writing letters to the court, she would vacuum and clear the table of mail-drifts. A magic thing transpired; with each broad sweep of the vacuum, clean carpet appeared and my mood (very slightly) lifted. The floor was clean; all things were possible.
That’s a lot of weight that was on that floor.
Uplifted, I wrote letters. Letters written, I helped reclaim table and more floor. Reclamation complete … you get the idea. Each quanta gave slightly firmer footing to reach for the next quanta, and more feeling of having done something to keep my life and my choices mine.
I still have not written (there are more things that Need Doing), but I’m getting there.
S’okay, kids, learn from me: When event-maelstrom whirls about you, do one thing, however petty, to commit order against life’s vortices.
Crossposted from Epinephrine & Sophistry