¿Is it always this chaotic the week before Pesach?
OMG. And also VEY IZ MIR.
I found three very small whole wheat bumps of frozen dough. Thawed and baked 'em; they'll be eaten either by people or by birds. Or maybe that small mouse or the cute rat who lived under the deck last Spring are still there?
Going through the refrigerator thoroughly now feels like tiptoeing through a haunted house. I never know when something will leap out from a corner and surprise me. (Not the mouse or the rat; they live outside.) But I found some vegetables from when I did a canning class---was it two years ago? three? It's been in the refrigerator unopened. What is the risk of ptomaine?
Passover has come to mean, functionally, an obsession with food: with the utensils and pots used to cook it; with the purity of crockery and cutlery; with expelling from the house every last crumb. Or, at the very least, sequestering the forbidden foods, and fictionally selling them to a non-Jew only to buy it all back after the holiday.
Do I buy back all my old bad habits too? all the fermented and stinky stuff?
This year, I am thinking: ¿what weighs me down? ¿what impedes my freedom? ¿what, if my life depended on it, should I leave behind, and what is worth taking?
I need to know, because when the time comes to run in the night, I cannot stop to deliberate or all will be lost.
This is a daunting thought for one who has only recently come to realize that those suitcases and shelves full of journals might contain precious clues to where I have come from and who I have been; and furthermore, might make good reading.
I'll take that to bed with me.