I’m at home on the couch listening to the hum of the clothes dryer. That sound is one of my favorite things. I love the transformation from dirty piles to clean. Even more, I love being home to hear the machines at work. So often, I’m doing laundry on the go, putting a load to wash as I go to bed at night and putting it in the dryer on my way out the door in the morning. To sit and do anything with that bustling in the background means I’m somewhat at rest.
I am at rest. I did a long bike ride yesterday and a much shorter ride this morning. I’ll head to work in a bit, but for a little while I’m home. I made coffee. I read today’s paper. I also meant to read last week’s only to open it up and find that the paper man delivered an Austin-American Statesman instead of a New York Times. It didn’t matter. Little does when I get to be at home. I took out the trash and vacuumed. I used a water hose to rinse off my flip flops that were filthy from when I mowed the yard a couple of weeks ago. The ground was so dry that my mowing created a dust storm. I’ve put some piles of books and papers away, though admittedly many remain. And now I sit for a bit in a quiet house, listening to my pecking of keys and the tumbling of the dryer.
It’s good to be home.