It has been a trying day. For no reason other than this smouldering coal seam restlessness flares into anger at unpredictable intervals. The day has reminded me of all the patterns I am so close to breaking. The habits of other people that impose on my time will all dissolve into transition. Fade to the next scene. Please, God, let me fade to the next scene.
And in answer to this day, the evening resolves in the smallest consolation: washing up the supper dishes. Despite chaotic emotions and interrupted projects and incessant calls for help, I can competently, completely move dirty dishes from one side of the sink, through mere soap and water, and rest them shiny and dripping dry on the other side.
So forget the other hours. Inconsequential demands of time compared to these 5 minutes and this return to order and peace. I make myself a cup of chamomile tea to the rhythm of playoff hockey commentators.