Sometimes she breezes in the house, lazily ambling into kitchen in search of a snack, or stopping right there at the sofa to sit and finish a chapter (or two). But usually she enters briskly, a little weary, like the last breath of a storm, throws the keys on their hook, and then marches into the bedroom. In one swift motion her bag, coat, hat and scarf all come off and are laid in a compact if not tidy pile on the foot of the bed. She shuffles off her shoes, and leaves, not to return till bedtime.
But why, oh why, can't she take that moment and add to it a bit of efficient intention. Why can't the coat go go on a hanger, the purse on the table, the shoes in their basket, so that, after 6 more hours of work in the kitchen, she can go to bed without once again rearranging her life.
(Photo: My bedside table, via Instagram)