Time and Doing Things

March 7
March is the homeowner’s month.
It is time to put away the snow shovel,
but not yet time to get out the lawnmower.

For the first time in… probably a year or more, the dining room table is cleared off as a friend is coming over so David can take a look at his laptop. The stuff that was on there was a mish-mosh of things that Timmy sent me from Mom’s house; I’ve successfully ignored them all this time because I’d unpacked them with the vague idea of organizing, sorting, and tossing junk and only got 3/4 through the task. It wasn’t especially painful looking at the things, but I tended to get lost in remembrance.

But the occasional visitor can do wonders for lack of motivation here at Chez Gique, and so not only is the table cleared off, but the console table in the living room has been tidied, dusted, and rearranged (though not the lower shelf) and the coffee table has also been cleared of clutter (framed pictures, junk) and dusted.

I moved some of Mom’s tchotchkes onto my desk with yet another vague idea: actually paying more attention to them now and then. Mom had a funny little calendar thing that she got as a table favor at a luncheon years ago that someone made that has a little quote or aphorism for every day of the year, and Mom had kind of used it as a rotating reminder of birthdays, anniversaries, her weight, and funny little notes. Just this morning, my husband David asked me if he should put the snowblower away for the season (fold the handle, shove it under the workbench) and I said I thought we’d get one more big storm. Even though yesterday was unseasonably warm – more than 60F – and we had a big booming rainstorm last night and today, my instinct was to assume that winter isn’t quite done screwing us over here in the Midwest.

And then when I was going through the Mom stuff and looked at her little date thing for today, there it was: her commentary on the changing season. It appears likely that it may be time after all to put away the snow shovel, at least according to this conveniently timed little message from Mom.

She may be trying to tell me to keep the house in its newly less-cluttered state, too, but let’s not get carried away here.