它们就是管用 | 来自笔杯 --- They Just Work | From the Pen Cup
This was the scene in our living room—and in my brain—last weekend. A snarled mess.
In a nutshell(ish), the cable company shipped a new cable box to us because the old one was about to become obsolete and non-functional on June 4th. We dragged our feet on making the swap because I hate messing with things when they’re working, and Fred is not exactly what you’d call a tech wizard. (Exhibit A: He was a flip-phone.) But on June 2nd, we bit the proverbial bullet and swapped the cable boxes which went relatively well, despite the need to crawl behind the TV, untangle spaghetti cords and cables in 80+ degree heat and high humidity. During the activation phone call, we learned that the new box WAS SUPPOSED to go on the BEDROOM TV. GAH!! Long story longer, we decided to have them ship us a new box for the bedroom and we’d leave the living room one where it was.
But then suddenly the wifi in our house wasn’t working, and nothing I did would restore it. The modem and router have nothing to do with the cable box, that I’m aware of, but our home network was down and I got that panicky alone feeling that happens when I’m over my head with a tech problem.
The ordeal stretched throughout the day (not a peaceful way to spend the Sabbath)—new modem, new router, new cable, an hour (at least) with tech support and a supremely patient man named Graham who amazingly did not pretend we got cut off and shared my whoops of joy when the wifi was eventually restored. YAHOO!
But then I had to reconnect ALL THE THINGS to the network as the settings had changed — the desktop computer, my Kindle, the Sleep Number bed, the Ring doorbell, the Generac generator, and probably some things that I haven’t discovered yet. Oof—everything is complicated and connected!!
Except for pens and paper.
What a relief to sit at my desk after all of this and fill a page in my journal with these technology woes. I uncapped the pen, put the nib to paper, and all was right with the world. This recently acquired, used, $35 Narwhal pen wrote like a dream.
Every now and then a pen will act up a little—very rarely in my personal experience—but usually the fix is a simple one—a good flushing, a different ink, at most a little nib work. No fiddling with settings, no gnashing of teeth, no passwords required.
Pens—they just work. Isn’t that the best feeling?!
Today is my first official day of retirement. Last night I had fraught dreams about trying to find a job, so it’s safe to say that my mind is navigating an adjustment period. The sense of freedom is almost overwhelming, but in a very good way. As with any new venture, I ground myself by making lists. First on yesterday’s list was to get my cluttered desk back in order. Purged. Straightened. Dusted. There, that’s better!
With the desk in better shape, I’m now methodically cleaning out the inked pens that have accumulated over the summer. It’s been a whirlwind of a season—busy at work, busy with retirement planning, time spent with my mom for fun and not-so-fun excursions, time away at a conference, chores, errands, minor snafus, and fun. Disarray ensued.
But now I’m making a fresh start. Restoring order. Flushing pens. And writing again.
At last.
No sooner had I written that last post when my 91-year old mom wound up in the hospital, then in rehab, and now in long-term care. There is some dementia involved and she does not understand why things are so different for her now. My heart aches for her even when she’s blaming me for all that’s happened. Sometimes I feel fine and other times I feel like I’m suffocating. It’s all so new and raw — an open wound that will take time to heal. Writing helps, so I show up daily, writing about mom and my odd dreams. I write and breathe and look for good things in my day. Kindness. Love. Cool water. Rest. And peace— peace for all of our difficult journeys.
A lot of disorder built up in the house over the last few years. Work. Elderly parents. Errands. Appointments. Meetings. I felt like I was never home, and when I was I’d rather read than dust. Stuff accumulated, as stuff does. (e.g., The “craft room” might be best served by tossing a match into it and starting over.)
The tip of the craft room iceberg
But now that I’m retired, and home more than I’m not, I’m working to restore order, one pile at a time. I’m purging books and clothes that should have been donated a long time ago. Progress is slow, but it’s progress nonetheless. There’s now time for both reading and dusting, taking walks and clearing off the kitchen counter, writing letters and purging my sock drawer.
Even though I’m home a lot more, this is going to take some time. I have 20 years of accumulation from my work office sitting in bags and boxes in my dining room to sort through. And that craft room. Oy. I know I’ll need to make a mess to make it better.
When you clean out your office after 20 years <insert grimace emoji>
This week I tackled one bookshelf. (“So what do you want, a gold star?!” “Yes…yes I do.”) I donated audio cassettes (remember those??) to the “free table” at the library and dropped books in every Little Library around town. This doesn’t sound like much, but it opened up precious real estate that finally allowed me to shelve my “Morning Pages” journals AND all of my Hobonichis which were previously stacked in a jumbled mess.
Seventeen volumes of morning pages (2016-2024)
2016-2023 Hobonichi Techos
I keep staring at that shelf, basking in the restored order, like I mastered a complicated magic trick. But really, it didn’t take that long once I got going. (You know how it goes—you think about doing something for a year or two, then get it done in an hour.)
As satisfying as that bookshelf project was, I felt even better about “restoring order” to some shelves at a downtown food pantry on Tuesday afternoon. For a few hours, I stocked and organized the sparse shelves with donated groceries, then filled bags for the walk-up clients while we chatted about their kids and the amazing fall weather.
This was a good week—a very satisfying week.