As it happens, gauging a move is a delicate balancing act. Like a minuet. Or a sarabande.
Are we coming or are we going? Are we packing or playing?
Running or doing laundry?
Is that a trick question?
In the midst of our chaos does life have the audacity to proceed as normal?
Thank goodness, I suppose, that it does.
Because we are coming, going, packing, playing, running, and doing laundry. It's all one big, lovely mess...reminding me again while it's good to be organized, it's also good to accept not everything is under control.
But, dear reader, if your life is under control, please tell me about it. Please delineate the ordered beauty of your day. Please explain an algebraic equation. Please remind me how Martha Stewart brines a turkey.
I think it would distill upon my frenzied mind like a panacea, like a fairy tale better than any prince riding up on a charger, any goose laying golden eggs.
Though perhaps not quite so good as a house made of gingerbread, mind you.
If anyone has that, please contact me immediately.
I've a bag of breadcrumbs just waiting for the call.
