Blathering About Sin

Matt cleaned the fridge, made real eggnog and venison chili yesterday.

I made stock and did laundry and picked up contacts and took Aloucious back to the dentist and made Salvation Army run and faced down my library sins. Wanted to just give them ten dollars for the book we can't find but in true frugal Binghamton fashion they renewed the book a third time and sent me home to look some more. Hysterical Sobbing. I know we don't have this book. I've looked everywhere.

Today I've got to make pie and bread dough and prep stuffing and clean the house and take the little girls to their well baby, I mean, I guess, well child appointments. Marigold is up for five year shots. Pondering about whether to give her any warning or not. Probably not.

And there's a bunch of other stuff to do. So many things to do. Meant to have done a lot of it before now. That is the modern way, borrowing every kind of exhaustion and trouble, complicating everything, feeling bad about it, trying to justify the complications morally, making everyone else miserable and finally collapsing into a puddle of failure and tiredness. Or is that just me? It can't just be me because otherwise there wouldn't be Pinterest.

The problem with thanksgiving, and with life in general, is that dirt bothers me. It just does. But I don't have the energy to get rid of all of it. It just sits there along the corners of the room and the margins of the kitchen. I can see it, but I can't lift a blessed finger to rid myself of it because I did a bunch of other stuff. So even though I did all that other stuff, I am left sitting, at the end of a long day, staring at dirt and feeling sad anyway. And that is the meaning of life, I'm sure. No matter how hard you try, there will have been more you should have done. Isn't that in the bible somewhere? A chasing after the wind? The remedy is supposed to be being thankful and enjoying your family and not worrying about tomorrow. Trusting Jesus, perhaps. The problem with that is the true knowledge that I could have done a little bit more, I could have screamed a little bit less, I could have swallowed my complaining and just picked up the broom one more time. The dirt totally reflects the blackness of my own soul. And I don't really want to deal with that any more than the actual physical dirt.

But I'll try anyway. I'll give it my best shot and hope that Jesus has some mercy, since that's what he's known for. Happy Thanksgiving ya'll! again, knowing that I promised not to blog but here I am anyway.