I was fussing and fretting earlier this week because someone was coming over to the house. All the baking stuff would need to be quickly rinsed and put into the dishwasher. I would have to gather up piles and move them to another room.
The books were out for a short talk I was to give. There were clothes I needed to hang up from the myriad of changes we have to make in this warm-to-cold-to-rainy-to-cool-to-warm weather. The few presents I had bought needed to be wrapped. And I still had to get ready for work.
This is not convenient, I thought to myself. I wanted this person to come at a time when I would be more ready.
More ready? Are we ever ready?
That made me think of our son’s birth 19 years ago next month. Due on March 4, he came knocking in mid-January.