I had plans.

I had plans.

BIG plans.

I was going to conquer the world
and the laundry.

I was going to write the great American novel
and bake the great American pie.

I was going to rid my home of every piece of clutter,
every unnecessary item of clothing,
every duplicate ladle (because really,
how many ladles does a person need?).

I was going to learn to sew
and learn to sing
and learn twenty new ways to cure the hiccups.

I was going to wash the windows and the dog
and find out, once and for all, what that one weird
vacuum attachment is really for
(because I’ve only ever used it to reach
behind the fridge for the magnet that fell off).

I was going to clean behind the fridge.

I was going to clean under the fridge.

I was going to buy a new fridge
and new fridge magnets
and rearrange them daily
to see if my husband noticed.

I was finally going to exercise.

And organize my computer files.

And mop.

But instead,
I sit here
with my eyes
closed
and my face
tilted
toward the sun
breathing
and wonder
when
the last time
was
that I
did nothing
but this.

© Carie Juettner 2017