I woke up and all of a sudden, the dust bugged me.
The dust which I have been sharing my life with for six weeks, now. The dust from the road, the dust that I dance with every morning as an act of love when I run a cloth over every flat surface in my house. The dust that has my teeth feeling as though they are wearing little tiny teeth-socks by the end of the day.
It's everywhere and it's not going anywhere.
But this morning, it bugged me.
And then I couldn't find my paring knife.
And all of a sudden, I didn't want Mexican food for breakfast (this part usually takes me only 5-6 days so I got a big break this year)
I heard myself whining at the mop, not wanting to hand-wring it. Then at the bathroom floor, which I just painted. Then at my mosquito bites.
Lila just laid there, happy as a clam.
I took a cranky walk and then I got home, opened my fridge, and sliced through a piece of passion fruit I bought yesterday.
The way it smells, the way the soft insides pull away from the skin, the way the seeds don't really feel like seeds. The way it TASTES (passion fruit tastes the way my Parisian childhood dreams fantasized).
And suddenly all is right again in my world. Dust and all.
It's good to let the crankies have a place to whine. And it's good to let Life's Gifts melt them away too.
WHEN we're nice and ready and not a second before.
SCARED OF THE SACRED