Old Age Day by Day May 20, 2011

There is something so safe and secure when I get home from grocery shopping and I know the refrigerator is stuffed and the pantry stocked and I will have a choice tomorrow morning about whether or not I eat Barbara's Shredded Oats. Tomorrow I could have raisin cinnamon bread or eggs, or my fave, scrambled eggs tucked in a tortilla. You would think I'd gone through the Depression in the 30's, the way my brain acts. I personally have never been deprived. Did I pick up this unconsciously from my Dad? He did go hungry. Is food a little teeny bit too important in my life? Well, yeah. There's that. It's good, perhaps, that I can find a spot of joy in such everyday routines. And my choices are healthy, for the most part. No candy or sugary baked goods, not much alcohol, just two bottles for tonight's dinner with my childhood friend and her husband. But why is it I feel safe? It's worth further exploration. But not now. I want to dust and vacuum and pretend the house is well cared for, because, since my friend lives in Florida, she'll never find out the truth. Well, there is only so much I can do before she arrives, so she will know that I live in a slightly run down old house with an out of control garden. She may even notice that the house needs painting badly and the shingles replaced. Unfortunately, it is the time of the year when there will still be ample light when she is here and for a couple of hours afterward. I have very dim lighting, but it won't save me today. Of course, the minute she arrives I won't care about any of the housekeeping issues, because I have a great deal of trouble keeping my attention focused on domestic tasks. I will be happy to see her, catch up, and relax. I could do that now, I suppose, but I do have my traditions.