Plunk in the middle

Plunk in the middle 

Journal entry by Eve Ilsen — 25 minutes ago

I have been emptying cabinets, discovering ancient dust-bunnies, boiling, scrubbing, sorting, pitching.
Appreciating comfort, convenience, abundance, beauty.

I am suddenly remembering the one summer I spent au pair in the ealry '60's, on the island of Nantucket. I met an older Quaker couple who invited me back to their summer place:  a small wooden cabin near the shore, no electricity, lantern light, water hauled in, ice box for food.  It was so peaceful; they were so happy.
I remembered that couple and their cabin during the peaceful weeks between the loss of my cell phone and its replacement.
And now I am thinking:

Pesach commemorates a time our ancestors ran like hell in the middle of the night with just what was on their backs and what they could carry easily---like, ummm, bread dough?---not knowing where they would end up, how long it might take to arrive, nor what they would do when they got there.Now, here I am, spending days sterilizing everything in the kitchen and the whole house in preparation for honoring the miracle of our ancestors throwing themselves into the unknown with nothing but what they could carry.
What is wrong with this picture?I am experiencing a vertiginous feeling of cognitive dissonance...

To be, G-d willing, continued tomorrow.