I am writing early tonight because of the strange things that have been going on with the laptop: it has been suddenly freezing, then waking up maybe forty-five minutes later. Maybe.
I am up to my eyebrows, now, in Pesach cleaning. In the kitchen, I am discovering this year's sins of neglect: things that have fallen behind drawers, dust bunnies, plastic bags and rubber bands that have reproduced in the dark, more lids than jars, plastic storage thingies that need to be retired.
The glass dishes, the glasses and the mugs have been kashered. Also some of the glass bowls and glass baking pans, and storage jars. Floating up in my mind as I clean and sort are questions that range from whether I need so much space and so much stuff (¡but I love this house, where we were together!) to the questions about what I must clean out from within myself, and what do I really believe.
All this physical work evokes the questions that precede the four questions of the seder table...
Which are the crumbly dried-up outdated beliefs I must sweep out and burn?
What does all this mean to me? to us?
From what do I wish to be liberated this year?
What is the true name of my tyrant?
Do I have the courage to set out into the wilderness?
Back to the kitchen.