Dust up

Every morning I make the bed. I give the comforter a good shake to restore its loft and then I sweep my hand across the steel blue sheet on both sides of the bed. It feels nice and smooth and when I’m done all the wrinkles are gone. (If only that was possible with my face.) I settle the comforter in place, punch the pillows – a bit of therapy before the start of the work day – drop them with a satisfying whump against the headboard and then add the decorative pillows. In this way I create order at the start of the day, fooling myself into thinking I am the mistress of my universe. Continue reading


The measure of a woman

“Gert was promiscuous. “ And then my brother said “Her husband criticized her housekeeping.”  I’m not sure either of these two traits was a true – or fair – measure of my Aunt Gert. Continue reading