Measuring Time

The pandemic time warp is back in full force.  Some days I wake up and think long and hard to figure out what day of the week it is.

I'm measuring pandemic time by the repetition of certain household chores.  I went on an uncharacteristic cleaning spree in the spring.  Now the pandemic has gone on so long it's time to repeat some of those keep-yourself-busy tasks.

I see nooks and crannies where dust has settled and cobwebs have formed.  That means I need to make another round with the swiffer.  I've tidied a couple closets for the second time.  I've cleaned under the couch again.  Yesterday I was assessing the dirt and dust situation behind the fridge.

We usually decorate the house just in time for the winter solstice.  This year my household is desperate for cheer, and the kids are plotting the logistics of a tree, lights and general merriment.  The halls will probably be decked by the end of the week.  

Decorating late in December was always my mother's ritual - and mine too.  She's probably shaking her head and watching in amazement while her grandchildren mess with the tradition.  I threw up my hands several months ago.  The year 2020 was not destined for traditions or rituals or family gatherings that we've come to love and cherish.  All we can do is make the best of the situation and carry on.  Look for cheer wherever you can find it.

While all of this has been running in the background, I've been quietly knitting.  It has a certain calming effect.

The body of my Calliope is finished, and I've moved on to the sleeves.  Forward progress always brings me cheer.