Resolving to make the most out of the last warm days this season, I optimistically signed up for a late October golf event—and as luck would have it, the weather was perfect.
All I needed was a costume, a bottle of wine to contribute, and the thousand other things one always brings to golf.
But with two days to go, my street was posted for a race closure.
How to get out of my house? Added to the list.
During a normal autumn, deciding what to wear can be demanding enough. But preceding my “day of fun,” I had been coping with a cascade of appliance malfunctions and demises.
This night owl succumbed to early bedtimes. I started forgetting things of no consequence, which of course led to flirting with the notion that age might be taking its toll, and other unwarranted musings.
We already had a hole in our roof.
And mice.
What else could go wrong?
Stoicism and sarcasm are handy tools, when the uncontrollable intrudes into our mindfully organized existence. Generally, I choose humor over hysteria, and to this mix I added the recognition that indeed, everything has its cycle.
This not only explains the demise of my ally in mouse-control, our cat Clyde, but settles why the pipe boot on our roof disintegrated, the dishwasher died, the furnace outlived its supply of available parts, and the refrigerator shut down.
Fortunately the fridge took mercy on me and only required a couple of technician visits and a door gasket.
The rest, I reframed by calling these unfortunate events the predictable “capital costs” involved in home ownership.
The illusion of control restored, I could turn my attention to a well-deserved day of golf.
As it turns out, assembling 20 grown women dressed as witches and storybook characters was just what we needed to clear our minds and refuel our weary souls.
Refreshed and renewed, we arise fortified, for whatever comes our way. ©
