A longtime friend is in town for a conference. I have plans to see her today and I’m excited about that. I would like to bring her by my home to meet my sweetheart and my puppy. Except then I look around. Dammit. The dishes from last night (and pots, pans, knives, cutting board, wine glasses…etc.) did not somehow magically wash themselves. No worries, I will empty the dishwasher and load it up again and we’ll be good to go.

Except that we’re not. Good to go, that is. My lunchbox from Friday is on the counter. It’s Monday. I have three purses on the floor behind the couch, a week’s worth of mail is on the kitchen table, and that basket of clean laundry is still standing in my bedroom, unfolded. In all fairness, it’s only underwear. I fished out everything else and folded and put it away. I was in a hurry.

Still, if I did those small things, the house would still not be what I want it to be. The office, where I sit and write, and also sew from time to time, is far too cluttered, with no place for all of the things it currently houses. The little bookshelf in the dining room was only supposed to be there over the summer while I was changing classrooms, and my dining room table has held a computer monitor since March. With no computer attached, I might add.

Each of these things is small, but the cumulative effect is overwhelming chaos. At least in my eyes. I think that’s why I don’t deal with each of those small things. I feel like they won’t make a difference to the overall appearance and atmosphere of the home.  You can see it coming, can’t you? The aha moment? Well, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

This is just like what I do to my body. A little slip here, a misstep there, I tell myself these are small things. No big deal. But over time look at what all of those small, easily reversible things have accumulated into. I can fix my house in a day. It may not be perfect but it will be a lot better, and the results will be instantly recognizable. Not so with my body. I can’t fix it in a day, or a week, or a month. What I can do, and must do, is stop treating it so haphazardly.

Like my home, when I maintain my body a certain way it is a joy. It is comfortable, functional, and just feels good. I need to keep that in mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a little more housekeeping to attend to.