“Boredom is the feeling that everything is a waste of time; serenity, that nothing is.”

One of the first things that happened this morning when I got my shit together, I open the door to let some kitties in while holding a hot cup of coffee. Up looks Josie, her perfectly-lovely little white paws very dirty from soot (WTF chimney-sweep), and cupped around some tender prey – an odd rat/mouse-like creature. I rushed the cat off and found the rat/mouse wasn’t too quick on his or her feet. He/she was very wet but looked intact. I huddled him into a box with fleece and sent out a tweet asking for any advice.

I like being an at-home worker. I like waking up too early with my son, getting laundry done and making up some hot breakfast cereal, then taking a bath with him (“I love you so much mama… more than anything”), and huddling back to sleep a few more hours. I enjoy being able to write, sew, rest, do housework, play with kids, or participate in Recovery – on more or less my own schedule and that of friends and family. I like being available for those who need help, family, friends, and people I just met and may never see again.

I enjoy even the simple task of grocery shopping and then buying my kids that chocolate milk at Lunch, the version the owner always makes extra-fancy for Nels (like – ridiculously fancy). I enjoy taking Phee in to the doctor’s (diagnosis: swimmer’s ear, probably from the several times a day the kids went swimming in an overly-chlorinated pool at LIG) and watching my little girl manage her own health plan. I enjoy seeing people in the community and having the time to talk with them, and make eye contact.  I like living in my body, in the rain and the lovely strains of the radio, instead of living in my head.

I really and truly and deeply love this kind of stuff. This year marks the ninth I’ve been at home and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

By the way, the little rodent was all dry and very spry later in the day, so we released him/her without further assistance. We also dipped Josie’s sooty-paws in some water so she’d feel compelled to do some self-hygiene. She remained, as ever, bitterly composed with that moderately-irritated expression on her face.

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