This time of year always reminds me of Groundhog Day, and with the pandemic overstaying its welcome, I'm feeling the monotony even more so. This is not a bad thing. I see the sameness not as tediousness, but rather oneness. Oneness in the vein of harmony. I find big joy in small, ordinary things so I'm perfectly happy. Happy as in content. Simpatico. Grateful. In fact, I have a confession to make. This morning I was driving to work in solitude, as I'm still boycotting any and all news, and I was actually thinking that I am going to miss this pandemic when "things" go back to "normal." I won't miss the disease, but I will miss this time out of time. I'm not so sure I ever want to do things the old way again. I have found a resonate peace with this simpler, smaller life. I wonder how many people share this sentiment. I feel like a lot of nonsense and fluff have been removed from my life leaving me with the fundamentals: the heart and the guts.
The essentials are stronger than ever. That's something to celebrate. I've been working hard to keep my focus on the things I have gained, rather than the things I've lost. Things like family time, stronger connections, sleep, time, perspective, peace and grit. This morning I was completing the annoying chore of cleaning my juicer, when I realized that I'm blest to be able to take care of my body. I know this sounds corny, but I suddenly felt a wave of affection for my helpful appliance. I heard the mantra: do small things with great love. Kumbaya.
After being cooped up all Sunday watching the snow fall and fall much to my delight, I thought maybe we should get out of the house this week for a date. There's a movie I want to see so I checked the times and was about to order the tickets for tonight, but then I came to my senses. I don't have any desire to go to the movies, I just feel like I should have the desire. Capisce? I have plenty of viewing options in the comfort of my own home. Why would I go out? I've always been a happy homebody pandemic or snow day or any day.
Sunday I woke up to the smell of coffee. My brother in law came for dinner Saturday and spent the night because lots of snow was in the evening forecast, and also because we enjoy his company. He's an early riser. I got myself a cuppa and watched the snow fly from my reading perch on the couch. The world outside my window was pristine, undisturbed. It was Sunday so the plows and snow blowers were slow to show up. There was no place to go, no place to be. It is something to behold: an untainted landscape. Snow day Sundays have a special place in my winter loving hygge heart. I made eggs benedict for breakfast before the guys went out to clear snow. Fortification. I spent the day organizing and pfaffing all three floors of the house: moving furniture, putting away Christmas, cleaning, and as night fell, I felt accomplished, deeply satisfied. A snow day without soup is sacrilege so I got to work making Ramen. It was my first foray into the world of funky broth and noodles, but it won't be my last. We all greedily slurped down our delicious bowls of crunch and umami topped with a jammy egg. I beat Mike twice playing Gin and then I went to bed early with my book feeling full of love and noodle soup.
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