“Mom, I’m bored. I have nothing to do.” It was a constant complaint ringing in my ears, the standard whiny demand of a kid having a day unfit for the usual pleasures and curiosities. Under normal circumstances, I would have been able to satisfy even the pickiest youngster with a coloring book and crayons, popping a DVD in the player, or tossing down a pile of jigsaw pieces of an Alps village onto the coffee table. But these tempting diversions were not going to cut it this time, for the simple reason that I don’t have a kid. The tape whining to mother was all in the head, my head.
Everyone has had those days, the adjustment period between life’s crash course of chores, worries, and responsibilities that lets loose the floodgates of adrenaline, and the easier cadence of predictable daily routines. This period can seem downright dull in comparison, no matter how sunny the day nor relieved you are to get off that roller coaster. If I were Pierre in War and Peace, I would assuage my ennui with contemplative Masonic metaphysics. If I wanted to find comfort in kindred spirits, I would compare notes with famous philosophers and the just plain famous. If I wanted to fill my head with megabytes of minutiae, I would loose myself in one of the many online labyrinths of puerile laughs and brain teasers. Any of these avenues would be just the thing on any other day, but on this particular day, I suspected there would be no jump start, except forcing myself into any activity just to get myself moving again. So I started in on the periodic ritual which I continually procrastinate against: the rearranging of all the boxes, bottles, jars and cans that chaotically cram against one another during episodes of cooking haste.My first task was emptying the cupboards onto the countertops to assess just what I had and how much. From there, I collected all errant pasta packages and returned them to their original shelf. Then I worked on the canned goods. When I was halfway through the clutter, I found two unopened tubs of candied lemon peel, fixings of last Christmas’ mincemeat pie. The expiration dates were perfectly sound through the next holiday season, yet I could hardly afford the space they took up. I was ready to fling them guiltily into the garbage bin when one of the labels caught my eye, advertising a recipe using the peel. I was no longer guilty and no longer bored.
As I waited for the two fragrant loaves of lemon bread to be lifted from the oven, the world was exciting again, full of possibilities. I was giddy with options. Would I tuck into a good book, watch an old movie or go for a walk? I quickly pushed the remaining groceries back into the cupboards. The reorganization ritual would just have to keep. Tomorrow, next week, next month, even next year, was another day.
Been There, Done That
Lemon Curd Shortbread
Lemon Curd Cheesecake
Quick Bread ~
The Laziest Loaf - 2-Hour French Bread