Right now, my clean laundry is folded in a basket on the floor of my bedroom closet.
|Prepare to Stop|
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I need to remember to slow down.
While driving to daycare this morning, F reminded me that I needed to slow down as we approached an intersection, the traffic light glaring yellow as a warning. I felt the car slow to a stop as I braked, in time with traffic and the changing of the light. I need to do this sometimes. I need to slow down. I need to stop.
For two months I’ve been like a barely-in-control race car, speeding around the little track of my life. Mindlessly, I’ve gone through the motions without being present enough to see – much less enjoy – my surroundings. The drive to work had become so monotonous that I would often find myself in the parking lot before it really occurred to me that I had left home. We raced out the door in the morning, and rushed home in the evening. It was barely-tasted breakfasts and quick-and-easy dinners. It was lunch at my desk and it was smiles and happy and fresh starts and a lot of coffee, so I’m not entirely sorry that I didn’t slow down.
But I plan to park for a day or two. Maybe I’ll even get that laundry put away…