Notes from the Babylonian Homefront

This house is too comfortable to keep referring to it as hanging around in Babylon. Although, ever wonder why All the people didn’t go back to Israel after the exile? Lots of them stayed, as I’m sure you know. It was probably because their houses were so comfortable and the economy was so great.

Like this house. It’s hard for me to avoid being preciously lyrical. It’s so pretty, it’s just so so so pretty.
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The thing about this house, as I’ve already said and keep on saying, is that it lifts and relieves me of the burden of myself. Instead of wandering around in the Depression of Binghamton, I look out the window and am transported to think about something else, like, what should we have for luncheon, or, I wonder how I can get the dust out of that high corner. The house wants me to do housework, but not petulantly, not reproachfully. It’s like the reason housework was invented–to take one out of oneself.

I’ve never experienced the work of the house in this way. One reason I like being busy at church, doing interesting jobs like cleaning cupboards, painting wooden disciples, or digging through bins of paper looking for last year’s Christmas pageant script is because when I’m doing those things I’m not having time to worry about myself and my own ego.

It’s possible to be too busy and never think. And it’s also possible to be busy and think. And it’s possible to be not busy and not think. Housework should exist in the category of busy and thinking. That somehow as you carry on with the tasks of caring for a household, you should be lifted up enough out of yourself to think, but not so much that you crowd your hands with poverty of mind. I’m sure someone’s already written a book about this. I should find and read it.
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Speaking of reading, the primordial problem I have always had is that I want to sit and read, and feel like I ought to sit and read, but the moment I sit down to read I remember the laundry, dishes, school reports, seasonal clothes change, dirt in the basement, porch that needs sweeping, gardening stuff that needs put away, papers on the desk that need sorted, gross stuff at the back of the fridge, email that needed responding, and so the long day wears on. At this moment of remembrance, I don’t then stand up to do those things, I sooth the chaos of my spirit with the Internet. But this is not the same as reading a book. It actually contributes to the chaos, but it lies and tells me it will be a rest. I don’t have a lot of time, I should do all these other necessary tasks, I’m about to be interrupted anyway, I will just glance at Twitter. And then an hour a later I’m still looking at Twitter but now I’m angry and I didn’t do any of those things and I didn’t read a book either.
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“For the week of thanksgiving, lets lie around and read,” said Matt.
“But what about the clothes change over?” I asked. “And it’s going to snow so we should clean out the garage so we can park the car in it.”
Our faces fall. We stop speaking and wander away to read another article.
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“For thanksgiving, though, wouldn’t it be nice to do Apple Dumplings and Pumpkin Creme Brûlée, instead of pie?” I’ve floated the idea a couple of times. Everyone stares at me in a haze of uncomprehending. They can hear words coming out of my mouth but they don’t mean anything.

“So just the usual potato then, and pie and so on.” The children nod and drift away. This isn’t the moment to do anything new. That would be stupid.
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We’ve had our extra puppy for a year now, as of this week. I’ve tried to rename him Kylo Ren and Pepin the Short and also Titus. But he remains Posy. He is just as evil and bad tempered as when we first got him. We’ve spent a year apologizing to everyone about him. I guess it’s finally time to watch the dog whisperer. The force of our collective disapproval has not be enough to overcome his essential nature. What a disappointment.
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Have a lovely Saturday! Enjoy the Snow!