Done! Without Coming Undone

 Done or Coming Undone?

Seeking a Better Approach—A Conscious Choice

Answers to Sunday’s Question

Priorities, priorities . . . Clean up this mess!

Sunday’s list loomed large. "To do or not to do" was my question as I scanned it. I was tired before I crossed out item number one. I decided to approach the dreaded list with a positive attitude. Did it help? Yes, and no. A positive attitude helped because I took the pressure off and got things done without coming undone. The list was long, too long. I knew I’d never check off every item. What did I check off?

Sunday's list beckoned me.

Decluttering the dining room and kitchen were priorities. I thoroughly cleaned the dining room and dusted and waxed all the furniture. My favorite blue-flowered retro tablecloth was scented with sun and breeze after line drying, so I spread it on the table and added the orchids I purchased Saturday. It's such a pretty, pleasant room, even if the table has no space for a meal. We can feast our eyes on flowers.

      An evil mess awaited me in the kitchen. Twenty-four hours earlier, the sink was clean and the counters were clear. I don’t have toddlers in the house, although 19- and 22-year-olds have commonalties with that age group, but even I was responsible for some of the mess. It was overwhelming no matter who was the guilty party. Rather than take my time and zen the room as I did in the dining room, I set a timer for 42 minutes and blasted my way through the room.

Dare I even share this mess? Mess happens...
Cleaning it up also happens.

       Forty-two minutes wasn’t long enough, even though my son helped dry and put away the dishes. Forty-nine minutes and viola! Clean sinks, counters, dishes, pots, pans. The list—the damnable list—still had too few things that weren't crossed off. The bread wasn’t rising properly because it was too cool in the corner of the kitchen where the bowl sat. I turned on the oven light for some added warmth and put the bowl inside. By the time the kitchen was clean, the dough had risen, but I wanted to take a break, so I punched it down and let it rise for the third time.

      Writing was on the infernal list, but it was one of the few things I wanted to do so. I was hungry for some time at the ocean’s edge with pen in hand. I made it a priority and shortly after this . . .

       I arrived here . . .

       Brisk winds brushed my hair away from my face as I gazed at the breaking waves and listened to the rush of water, sand, and shells when they met at the shore. Sand crunched beneath the pen's tip and smeared the ink as words found their way to the page.

       Dusk approached and little time remained for the list, which was forgotten during my time at the ocean’s edge. Rising dough awaited my return, so, refreshed in spirit, I headed home.

       The third time isn’t always the charm, I noted with disappointment at the appearance of these loaves. However, all day I had focused on looking within to find a more positive approach to whatever I did, to find something that wasn’t evident in my usual cursory glance at life--or bread. That approach enticed me to slice this bread and get a whiff of fresh-baked aroma mingled with the steam coming from the first cut. Sliced and spread with butter, one taste revealed the magic within this bread.

Even when not so pretty, fresh bread holds treasure within.