We were doing a mini re-organisation at home this week. Not having done that sort of thing for a long time, it felt like a large upheaval; it was physically demanding. With a certain amount of ingenuity, a heavy bedspread and a home-made small platform with wheels, one awkward piece of furniture arrived in its new position in one piece and best of all, there were no bumps, knocks, nor any minor injuries.
I had a mental picture how things were going to look when I finished reorganising. But like the proverbial 'best laid plans of mice and men....' at bed time I was still deciding whether or not the radio should sit on the shelf where it had sat before. I unplugged it a few times to site it in one or two other places. It finally rested where it sat best, where I had originally put it! Isn't that always the way. The plant is sitting pretty, in full daylight instead of reaching out to find it. It looked happy, it looked good; it can stay where it is.
A quick tidy to finish things off was on the agenda this morning. Q u i c k...I should have known better. Three little shelves, (they really are little) produced a surprising amount of dust and a treasure trove of about twenty years of memories. There's no swift way to sort, or, decide what to discard, with all that emotional attachment.
Amongst the crumbs of years past, I found a gift card and written on it in a child's script was this:
Looking at this card gave me warm feelings. It must have happened at the time of a school music festival, but when; worse still, who was Helen? It is very disconcerting.
In our Time with Seneca
5 hours ago