I woke up this morning with all sorts of resolutions regarding what used to quaintly be called "household management." Sheets that have sat waiting to be folded (does anyone really like this job?) would finally get put in the closet. I have no idea what sorts of trouble the laundry has created while downstairs-I should have sent some spies to the basement to make sure it has practiced abstinence and not created more dirty clothes. The parts of the Inquirer that have calmly and politely piled up in the kitchen, awaiting a reader would not only be read, but recycled.
Then there is my normal work, of course. Polyamorists and the Allentown Museum, and a column on violence and redemption awaited me-I have had to admit that my daughter gets her ad hominem personality from me. Creativity and chaos often battle with order and discipline in this house-and you really don't want to be on the losing side when chaos wins out.
Somehow I got hijacked on the way to the reading and recycling by a fat booklike package from my alma mater, Kirkland College. The school, a product of the idealistic 70's doesn't exist anymore-but there is still a strong sense of shared identity among those of us who attended it.
Having thrown a bunch of newspapers into the recycling pile ( I rationalized that tomorrow I'll have more recent morsels to pile up and forget) I tore open the envelope. When I did, I was sorry that I hadn't done it sooner....
TBC
1 commentaire:
I hear there are people who not only enjoy folding sheets, but ironing them, too. Weird, that.
I confess to never having heard of Kirkland College so Wikipedia'ed it.
It sounds like it was a decent liberal arts college...back in the day. And somewhat prestigious?
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