Have you noticed how the details of daily living get in the way of the things you really want to do? I don’t mean cooking and cleaning the kitchen and laundry and making the bed. I mean reorganizing your closet—or your files, both of which have been heavy on my mind lately. And yet I’m aware that doing them will take from my writing time, the business I devote my days to.
The gas company is complicating life. They are replacing our meter and digging huge holes on our property. We sit on caliche, so I know it’s hard digging for them. Friday, I couldn’t go grocery shopping with Jordan—our weekly outing—because they had our driveway and the neighbor’s blocked, and she couldn’t drive up here to get me. Today a friend was coming for lunch but called from the street with the same problem. “I’ll go bring you lunch,” she said, but I told her to come on up the driveway on foot, and I’d make tuna salad. No sooner had I opened the tuna than they moved their equipment and told her they’d keep the drive free if we wanted to go out. Too late. We had tuna, avocado, pickles, and tomatoes. And probably a better visit than we would have had in a restaurant. Tomorrow, same story, yet another verse. I hope they’ll free the driveway so I can go out to lunch.
Late this afternoon, Jordan came in and announced she was here to work on my closet. I dropped everything and joined her—mostly as a spectator, since reaching clothes in the closet is a real stretch for me—no pun intended. We didn’t discard much—three things and a bunch of hangers—but she pulled all the spring and summer tops to one side, and put the pants on a low bar where I can reach them. I folded winter-like pants and put in a drawer where I’d discovered space. For a long time, I couldn’t bend enough to open the drawers on the buffet or whatever that serves as bedroom drawers for me. Today I could—the drawers are long, so I have to do one handle and then the other until I get it open enough to pull the center out evenly. But now I can bend enough to do that. Every time I do something new, I feel inordinately proud.
I’m almost afraid to comment on what lovely weather we’re having, for fear if I enjoy it too much it will go away (is that an old-fashioned Puritanical superstition or not?). But tonight, after closet organizing, we sat on the patio with wine. So pleasant, it was seven before we came in and I fixed my dinner. Spinach fettucine with butter, lemon, garlic, anchovy and lots of shaved pecorino.
MY goal tonight is to proof one more short story—more about that later. But now I must get to it.