Carpe diem

Again today, on this Christmas morning, I grumbled at myself. As I searched for a pair of socks in the dresser, the stack of my mismatched socks remain piled on the bed nearby. For a couple months now, I’ve meant to tackle this simple task of organizing my sock drawer and reunite these poor forgotten socks. How is it possible that I haven’t made the time to accomplish this? This bed—a guest bed, in theory—also is covered with miscellaneous papers, purchases and remnants of a busy life.

Weeds used to consume my weekends

I’ve never been Martha Stewart, by no means. But earlier in my life, I did dump out my socks a few times a year and neatly arrange by color. I also dutifully spent entire weekends pulling weeds in the backyard. I avoided inviting friends over until the house was clean and orderly—at least the rooms in which we’d visit. Instead of taking a day trip or asking a friend to grab lunch, I’d more likely tend to my weekly to-do list.

Lost opportunities

As I prepared to make a fresh start for myself across the country, I realized the vastness of the list of things I had never experienced despite 25 years in California. Napa, Sutter’s Fort, Sacramento’s Second Saturday, for starters. Then there are all those lost opportunities with cherished souls: that never-scheduled visit to a friend in Santa Cruz; meals, outings and heart-to-hearts with in-town friends and cousins; the would-have-been friendships I never invested time to develop.­­­

carpe diemSocks aren’t my priority

Two years into my new life in North Carolina, this bed is more often covered with clutter than not and those mismatched socks keep waiting. But often, friends drop by unexpectedly or with a moment’s notice and it doesn’t occur to me to cringe at the current condition of my home. Without hesitation, I accept invitations to dine out on a work night, spend an afternoon thrift-store shopping and journey out-of-town for lunch with ladies at a teahouse. The laundry waits for later in the week as I listen to my boyfriend share his day. And often, no matter what chores could have been accomplished, you’ll find me next-door with my best friend, a stimulating lovely lady of 92, who, to me, serves as a constant reminder to seize the day. Those socks can wait. ­

 

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