Awash in dirty dishes, dirty laundry, paper that may or may not need to be dealt with. We don't keep up well at the best of times, and since one member of the family after another has been methodically struck down by this stomach virus, the confusion has multiplied to a pleasing state of complete clarity: it's too much. It's absurd. It's out of control. Or, to be accurate, we're out of control.
And suddenly everything comes into focus. The vague uneasiness comes to a point, and I remember why, why everything happened in the first place.
So this morning, I stacked up some pillows on the bed and sat and said my prayers, did five minutes of meditation. Woke Alan. Brought him some tea. Threw in another load of diarrhea- and vomit-tinged laundry. Took him to school.
It's not just a matter of being well again, though this turning is one of the blessings of illness, like the blessing of sleeping and waking, the blessing of summer and winter. My mind is clear for the first time in a year. It's with relief that I come back to my business, knowing what I'm doing. Many things that I put in place when I last was clear-minded are still in place. There's a great deal to build on.
But a great deal, a great deal to do. The mosquito people will remind me. They're plentiful this year. Not a single one has bitten me, though I have been nudged and fluttered by them for days. I am usually the darling of the mosquito people, but they're being very formal with me. I'm not quite sure what this means.