I held the full intention of waking tomorrow early enough to make it to morning minyan at 7-ish.
Then I began reading my email, filled with demands that I write to congressmen, sign petitions, etc.
Believe me, this is NOT the thing to be doing so close to bedtime; it is nightmare territory for sure.
The kitchen is a wreck, with pots and potting soil for shifting the schefflera to larger quarters, small pots for planting some cat grass for Bracha to munch, and the supplies for saag paneer waiting in the refrigerator for me to cook it before the spinach wilts. The substance for tomorrow night's class has been arranging itself in my head for a very long time; it waits impatiently for me to put it on paper. I'll do that when I return from shul.
Meanwhile, I did plant flowers in the pots on the front deck just at dusk.
I did write first thing in the morning.
I did get cat grass for Bracha, to last her till our own should sprout.
I am feeling the inexorable approach of Pesach, always preceded by the kashering-for-Pesach.
I dread it as if it were slavery; but it is actually a chance to cull, to give away, to lighten the load.
(With very few exceptions, I do not "sell" my chometz, but actually donate most of it to food banks.)
It definitely induces an Altered State.
I'm not ready for this yet.
I haven't seriously begun to contemplate what chometz in me needs to be cleaned out this year.
No doubt that will become exquisitely apparent as I prepare my physical space for the journey to freedom.