On Thursday, rather than merely waving to my neighbors Candice and Donna Jean, I pulled my car into Candice’s lot and invited myself to join their afternoon confab. On Friday, I visited with Melissa, a neighbor here on the tiny house row of the RV park in which I live. As the evening drew to a close that day, I realized that it had been a long time since I had enjoyed a few minutes of respite with no responsibilities.
Saturday found me scrambling with chores and preparation for the open house for tiny house aficionados taking place here at Park Delta Bay next weekend. Posters, decor, directions, and logistics still must coalesce. I’ve been honored with the task of coordinating the event. Meanwhile, my own house will be open and I have to clean, declutter (an endless affair), and create a sign to display so that the young lady whom I have hired to show my house has a few facts at her fingertips.
Now Sunday has come — sweet Sunday, when most people relax and stroll to the nearest cafe for brunch with their family and friends. My mind drifts to Kansas City, where I might be having coffee with Penny Thieme or driving out to see the latest progress on Genevieve and Wes Casey’s bus conversion. Instead, I will sweep my porch and run into Lodi for additional supplies and groceries. Laundry must be sorted and stowed. The eternal gathering of dust on my window sill mocks me and needs a good swipe.
Later, I will find respite on the porch. A hummingbird will sip sugar water from the feeder on my plant stand. Sweet autumn air will flow through the open windows of Angel’s Haven. As dusk gathers, I will go inside and rest my aging body in the beautiful rocker which my friend Tracy gave me. Eventually, night will wrap itself around me, and I will sleep.
It’s the third day of the ninety-fourth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.