Permission Granted

On Saturday I spent two hours cleaning out the refrigerator.  This was partly to escape testosterone.  That morning I went over to church to help at the semi-annual work day, where we all pitch in to clean up the church campus.  I brought my rake and work gloves.  But when I got there the place was crawling with Cub Scouts and men armed with leaf blowers.  The noise was unbearable, and my rake was not infused with enough testosterone to be effective.

So I told everyone I had to go home and clean my refrigerator.  When you tell people at church you are going to do a particular thing, you had probably better make it turn into the truth.  The truth is that cleaning the refrigerator was already on my list of things to do.  It is an annual ritual I perform as part of my preparations for Thanksgiving.  The problem is that there are still 7 days left for it to get dirty and filled up with toxic leftovers.

In honor of all the people who work hard to make Thanksgiving gatherings possible, I post this Note of Permission.  It was issued by Youngest Daughter in July, but I keep it posted on the refrigerator to remind me that someday it might actually come true.

It reads, “Dear Mommy,

This is your day off.  Today, you are not allowed to do any work.  Instead, you can do whatever you like.  Read, rest, and watch some TV.  It will help a lot with stress.  I heart u!  Sincerely, Youngest Daughter.  P.S.  Computer work does count.”

So, Dear Reader, go sit down.  Relax. Read a book.  Watch TV.  Ignore the yard filling up with leaves, the fridge filling up with leftovers, and the laundry baskets filling up with clothes.  Take a pre-holiday Sabbath.  It might be the last chance you get to sit down for a while.