The silence is coming from inside the house
Today is the first day in about...6 1/2 years, I guess, that I have the house totally to myself, and I do not feel obligated to do anything, and no one is asking me to do anything, and I don't feel guilty. The kids are at school and my vacation has just started. Thus, the empty house.
I don't even have any worries hanging over me at the moment. I could even take a nap, I guess, were it not for the fact that I have to leave in a little over an hour to pick up the kiddos from school. It's been a quiet day, nothing special. I picked up some clearance Easter stuff at Target, made a couple of phone calls to clear up some pesky administrative things (i.e. money-related stuff), cleaned up Kate's room, put some stuff into storage, and completed a couple of pieces of business online. It's nice to not feel over-worked and stressed.
I am reading this book right now.
I picked it up yesterday at Barnes & Noble during our annual "It's Easter and why isn't anything open and what are we going to do now?" journey in the car. Unlike some slef-help books I've picked up briefly and then tossed aside in disgust, this one has practical steps for finding peace. I've not yet put most of them into practice, of course, but it's a step. And I like looking by the side of my bed and having it next to me. It feels good. The copy I have is hardcover with a smooth dust jacket and it's a small book. It's nice to hold.
I'm going to enjoy some solitude right now, in fact. I can't promise that I've found the key to inner simplicity yet, but I have to believe that if I'm going to find it at all, the place to start is in a quiet house at 1:20 in the afternoon on a Monday when I have no obligations. I'm ready to discover it NOW, but I'm betting that impatience and inner simplicity don't go hand-in-hand, so I'll have to wait a bit, I'm sure. Maybe this really is one of those times when the joy is not in the destination, but in the journey. I don't know that I've ever actually had that be the case in my life, but as my gramma always said, there's a first time for everything. Let the journey begin.
I don't even have any worries hanging over me at the moment. I could even take a nap, I guess, were it not for the fact that I have to leave in a little over an hour to pick up the kiddos from school. It's been a quiet day, nothing special. I picked up some clearance Easter stuff at Target, made a couple of phone calls to clear up some pesky administrative things (i.e. money-related stuff), cleaned up Kate's room, put some stuff into storage, and completed a couple of pieces of business online. It's nice to not feel over-worked and stressed.
I am reading this book right now.
I picked it up yesterday at Barnes & Noble during our annual "It's Easter and why isn't anything open and what are we going to do now?" journey in the car. Unlike some slef-help books I've picked up briefly and then tossed aside in disgust, this one has practical steps for finding peace. I've not yet put most of them into practice, of course, but it's a step. And I like looking by the side of my bed and having it next to me. It feels good. The copy I have is hardcover with a smooth dust jacket and it's a small book. It's nice to hold.I'm going to enjoy some solitude right now, in fact. I can't promise that I've found the key to inner simplicity yet, but I have to believe that if I'm going to find it at all, the place to start is in a quiet house at 1:20 in the afternoon on a Monday when I have no obligations. I'm ready to discover it NOW, but I'm betting that impatience and inner simplicity don't go hand-in-hand, so I'll have to wait a bit, I'm sure. Maybe this really is one of those times when the joy is not in the destination, but in the journey. I don't know that I've ever actually had that be the case in my life, but as my gramma always said, there's a first time for everything. Let the journey begin.
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