Summer Time...

And the Living is Easy.

In a recent most unpleasant encounter with a particular someone, he accused me of being a "neurotic perfectionist," too rigid to accept others for their true selves.  Like when he meets me three hours after we had arranged and does not call to let me know he is running late, by three hours, and then wonders why I am "in a mood" and consider him less than totally reliable.

Theoretically speaking, of course.

But the discussion got me thinking about the wound-up New Yorker for so many years, planning so hard for the future that I was not enjoying the moment at all.  And I know that I have been judgmental in the past and not given people the benefit of the doubt, and have actively worked on changing for the better.

In the past few days, I have lost track of time and arrived late (I NEVER arrive late), I have shoved laundry to the side instead of folding it right away (the horrors), dishes are sitting in the sink and paperwork is piling up in the office.   Slowly the house is taking on the concept of ordered chaos, just call me Messy Mommy. I find this trend intriguing and disturbing at the same time.

I could attribute it to my upcoming birthday, perhaps the synapses in my mind are deteriorating. Or the vibe of Summer, where everything moves just a little slower and easier. Or the oppressive heat of Jerusalem and the exhaustion that comes with it.

I remain most curious to see where this will take me.