Busy, Busy, Busy

Since I watch my grandchildren 5 days a week and do at least 3 Zoom meetings a week as well as walk a mile or two every evening and take care of the necessities, I am pretty busy.  I also have arranged to pick up my grandson and spend an afternoon on the weekends with him at my house. Sometimes I feel too busy.  I wish for more time off.  I think I would like more sleep. I think about all I need to get done.

Then I remember the start of the pandemic when I didn't have much going on.  I got depressed.  I got 2 parakeets to help me with that and now I constantly have to clean up after them. But, I binge watched a lot of television and I didn't sleep very well. When nothing is going on, I get nothing done. Nothing.

I have a lot going on this weekend.  Then the following weekend I have an extra 2 days.  I imagine that I would like to go somewhere, but I can't imagine anywhere that I would feel safe going. I have a lot of sorting and cleaning out to do. I have boxes in the basement of stuff from my mom's apartment, teaching stuff, remains of the marriage that neither of us wanted. There are way too many boxes of Christmas stuff. There are containers of clothing that testify to my changing sizes.  And I am not sure what else, but the basement needs clearing. I have several quilting projects and a writing project.  And I can go to daily Mass on those extra days. This is not to mention cleaning bathrooms, kitchen, floors, and so forth.  I have enough to do.

I can't give up any of my Zoom meetings or other commitments just yet.  I need to find the right balance of busy and not busy to keep me away from depression, and to be a productive citizen. I remind myself of this when I start to feel too busy.  I need to keep busy.

Isolation

 During this pandemic I was never totally isolated.  Because my grand daughter was due in early April, I watched my grandson straight through the lock down.  I had contact with my son and his family at least three days a week.  I was part of several different Zoom groups.  I wasn't completely alone.  But, more alone than I had been before, less options. I went to the grocery store in the wee early hours, masked and scared. I didn't go to shop at hardware stores or fabric stores or big box stores even though they were open.

My life now is about the same as it was then.  I take care of my grandchildren 5 days a week and borrow my grandson on the weekends for a few hours. I grocery shop once a week.  That is about it.  I still Zoom a bunch of times a week.  I miss people not being in meetings, but just being with people.

Still, I was confronted by a reality just recently.  Even before the pandemic, I isolated.  I didn't have people come to my house very often. My house was messy.  I made all kinds of excuses.  Quite frankly, I was really frustrated with myself that I couldn't ever seem to get on top of things.  As I said, I read something that challenged the way I had been living.  I read an article about keeping a messy house was a way of self isolating, avoiding other people.  They couldn't come home because the house was messy.  Hold people at arms link, Keep them away.  It is what many people do when they have been affected by alcoholism.

Just that realization has helped me.  I have suddenly been able to look at the messes in my house and to start to untangle them.  There is stuff that was messy, that I had sitting around that I just needed to go through, throw away and maybe store some stuff in the basement.  I need to ask myself if I am ever picking up that book I put down 6 months ago and finishing it, or am I done with it?  And the book we read in my group last year, do I ever think I will read it again?  Time to donate it somewhere.  I have made some progress with some of the tangles.  I am writing this to remind and encourage myself to keep going.  There is no reason why I can't live in peace and order instead of chaos and confusion.  I have no more need to isolate, those days are gone. (Except for COVID, the virus is keeping me isolated for now, but not forever, I hope.)

Whirly Pooley

I usually give my appliances names.  It makes them feel more friendly.  I am sure that they appreciate it. Or not, it doesn't really matter to me.  I call my dishwasher Whirly Pooley, origin obvious, I suspect.  I recently commented to someone who mentioned that they hadn't had a dishwasher for 13 years that I love my dishwasher.  The one in this house and in the rental before that had not worked well or at all, so I replaced that one with this one as soon as I could.  When asked how often I run her, the answer is every 2 or 3 days.  I am only one person and I don't cook that much.

But, reflecting on the subject of dishwashers, I have to confess that I have had them in my life since I was a teen in the 1960s.  My dad thought that dishwashers were more sanitary and we would all get less sick if we had a dishwasher.  Both my parents taught school and the dishwasher was a way to help out my mom.  But, even more so, it helped me.  I had developed eczema on my hands.  Washing dishes made it worse, so I was one of the reasons we got a dishwasher.  I never had to help wash dishes, just load the dishwasher.

Newly married we lived in an apartment without a dishwasher.  My new husband had no interest in helping with the dishes or being nagged about not helping, so "he" bought a dishwasher, although we both worked, so it seems more "we".  It was a portable dishwasher and we moved it around the world with us.  It went to Okinawa, Japan; Orlando, Florida; and Honolulu, Hawaii before we sold it.

Briefly in Missouri we lived without a dishwasher, but my son was a teenager without eczema and he helped with dishes.  When he started college we moved to a house with a dishwasher and I have had one ever since.  This is a rather long and boring post, but it is just to say, dishwashers have been around a while and have changed some since the 1960s, but essentially they work the same.  To me they are an important appliance in the kitchen and I hope to never be without one.