Tuesday, May 29, 2012
don't underestimate me until you've tried my homemade pizza
When I'm in my laundry room, the light seems tranquil yellow and doesn't weigh a thing. It's the quietest place on my map, because hanging out there stops me from worrying if I have learned enough. Everyone feels this pressure to be more than what they came to this world as. To wrap themselves in knowledge so tight that minimal to no cluelessness shows through.
Something that often makes me feel sad and lonely is that I have not tried very hard or simmered very long. I'm still a very raw piece of person that hasn't been able to focus since learning about stone soup in preschool. I feel a wilderness away from the people around me sometimes because my written accomplishments don't exist.
It dissappears when I'm in the laundry room. When I am doing what feels so natural to me. I watch my hands glide across waistbands and fingers carefully untwisting underwears. My hands look so competent and feminine in the tranquil yellow light that doesn't weigh a thing.
I just know. Today is the day to wash the pillowcases again. I don't have a chart or a method, but would not be surprised that if I kept track, I would find that I wash the pillowcases once a month to the day.
Insignificance throws me into despair at times, yes. But when I watch myself cook a well balanced dinner on a week night, and I think of those linens neatly folded on the top shelf sleeping to the hum of the air vent, I feel a thrill. In my almost always organized house.