Resuming the Ann Dee Ellis 8-Minute Memoir Writing Challenge. This is Day Twenty-Six.

There aren’t very many things I *have* to do each day… I’m both fortunate and cursed by that reality. The way I’m wired is I am what appears to be fallow for stretches of time, and in crazy bursts of creativity and productivity, I get *everything* done in a short span of time. Then I sit back and appear fallow again. The truth is more complicated, because what looks like a sleeping field is really a calm surface with a million micro-movements happening invisibly. But I know how it looks.

So back to my days. I write every day. I feed my family every day. I put things off every day. Until suddenly I don’t. Most household and mothering tasks I find neutral. I neither love nor hate them— I am fully cognizant of the fortune of having modern appliances and a comfortable, warm, safe home from which to run my family. I don’t mind laundry- it’s pretty easy to stuff my machine full of similar colors and push a button. In an hour it’s all clean. That’s pretty awesome. Folding it, on the other hand…

Does anyone else have a Laundry Chair in their bedroom? I throw the clean, warm laundry on the bed, fully intending to fold it, and then at bedtime, I realize “Nope. Not happening.” and it moved to The Chair. Sometimes we repeat his little dance for days on end. The kids have their chores, but they’re pretty simple- unload the dishwasher, put their (occasionally folded) laundry away, clean the bathrooms as assigned, feed the dog.

The daily task I actually enjoy is cooking.

Being in the kitchen, dicing, chopping, slicing, prepping mise en place, stirring bubbling pots of alchemy, all things that calm my swirly mind and bring me happy peace. I love my good knives, my heavy cutting board, my beautiful island with the maple counter, my kitchen full of well-loved and well-used tools. My kitchen, while small, is organized and utilitarian, and while I occasionally curse the lack of cabinet and counter space for multiple projects, actually works very well for what it is. Just remind me of that next time I curse as the spices fall on my head when I open the cupboard…