What a mess!

My back hurts from bending over and picking up shards of wallboard. What a mess. There is so much to pick up and it seems like as much as I pick up, there is more left to do. What a mess. Wires hanging down, watch out for nails. There is so much dust. Everything is covered in white dust. Man, what a mess.

I think about those pictures I have seen of Pakistan, China, Chile, and Haiti. What a mess. What monumental job to clear away the rubble; where does one begin? I have seen film of the destruction left by floods, all the mess and all the mold. I don't know how people survive. Is it because everyone is in the same predicament that they can go on, working together to make new lives? I don't know. I think about New Orleans and wonder if it will ever be cleaned up. The poor Haitians, where is the light at the end of the tunnel for them?

I am redoing a small kitchen. There is an end in sight. There is a small amount of dust and dirt and the knowledge that within two months everything will be beautiful. And if not beautiful, clean and efficient.

How lucky I am. There are no bodies under my rubble. This is not a disaster although it certainly looks like one. This is a choice, oh lucky me. How can I complain about anything when life has been so good to me, and I have a dusty bed to lie in tonight to count my blessings. My apartment is a good and true mess, but I am blessed with life and the knowledge it is a blessing. Is my life a mess? Only if I want it to be.

Thank you S, thank you Erica, thank you Johnny Angel (you're an angel to me).