Domesticity...

The city of Domestis...

A place where comfort can be taken in scrubbing and sweeping, cooking and cleaning. A place where the effort placed in making a purse from yarn, or turning a dirty room into a clean paradise is valued.

I find it oddly suited to me of late. Hence the new handbag, the sparkling kitchen, and the bubbling pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove. None of these chores will save anyone, I will not have made a difference in the outer world at the end of today, but I will feel slightly more cheerful when I enter the room. I will be happier bundling my belongings into my new woolen handbag than I was into my new Target purse, even though the latter was significantly less costly. My family will eat a hot healthy meal tonight, and we will save on the expense of take out.

It seems intelligent to retreat into my home and try and make some sense out of it, especially since I can make no sense from recent events. (since, sense, events.... a bit poetic.) Maybe tomorrow I will make another baby blanket, or finish the quilting on the blanket I made a month ago. Maybe I will make a wallet to match the handbag... or maybe I will learn how to make an exotic dish.

There is no better healing balm, than domestic bliss.