Set the timer, check. Limbered up my fingers, check. Organized my thoughts... hmmm.
Organized. I remember that word. Back before I had so much free time, there were a lot more anal activities scheduled into my days. As I age, enjoying life seems more like really living than pristine rooms. It's not that we live in squalor but there are usually projects left on flat surfaces and plenty of pet hair that escapes the vacuum.
Sometimes, seeing an decorating article in a magazine will re-ignite my dormant domestic fire. Or a visit to a friend's well appointed and spotless home. Then I remember that a place for everything and everything in it's place takes time away from my other interests, like going for a walk. My minute's up. Now where is that leash?
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