This has been more difficult than I had anticipated.
It is never-ending. Not to mention the fact that this house is three times larger than our old one.
And the fact that was a domestic
failure novice throughout the entirety of my adult life.
Looking back on my prior life, it is as if I was just going through the motions of running a household. An occasional home-cooked meal, infrequent bursts of frenzied cleaning, and the like.
But this is a whole different ball of wax.
My waking hours are consumed with laundry, cleaning, meal preparation, marketing, unpacking, and managing the Frummettes. I have cooked more meals in the past four weeks than I have in the rest of my combined years.
What I haven’t done is write. You will have noticed, I am certain, that I have been uncharacteristically quiet the past few weeks. And not because I have nothing to say. Rather, I am just too tired. Too, too tired.
I suppose that I will find a rhythm to all of this. Not to be confused with a schedule. The outline of the schedule is coming together. Linens laundered on Sundays, bathrooms on Thursdays, daily sweeping, challah baking on Friday mornings, and so forth.
A rhythm is something deeper. Less about organization and more about lifeforce.
Meanwhile, school started yesterday and today we are home. Yes, the automated phone call came in the dark hours of the morning. Flooding as a result of ongoing rains onto heavily-saturated soil.
Which completely messed up today’s schedule.