From The Outside Looking In

…though I do hope no one is looking in my actual sliding door

I’m in the rocker recliner making a cameo on the right. It’s where I’ve spent close to two of the wee hours of the morning after waking at 2:30 A.M. It’s okay; I fell asleep around 9 P.M. I may or may not get back to sleep, and I have learned to accept what does or does not come after an almost middle of the night awakening.

If you are female and laughing at the juxtaposition of the electric space heater and fan, I’ll wager you are under 45-50 years old. Soon you’ll understand.

My late mother-in-law used to tell me what went on in the middle of the night at her house. It was decades after her seven children were born, so nothing too exciting, but interesting nonetheless: She and my father-in-law would watch old black-and-white movies on Turner Broadcasting Network. They were born in 1914 and 1916; undoubtedly those movies, only the good ones, brought them back to their youth. Mrs. Amiot once told me she didn’t go see dirty movies when she was young because she didn’t want Jesus to see her doing that.

Mr. and Mrs. Amiot sat in what they called the TV room, a tiny room which formerly functioned as a bedroom. In addition to an enormous console television under a window, there were two “easy chairs” in there, situated closely enough they could hold hands and pray, and on each wall beside the easy chairs was a gallery of their children and grandchildren. One could touch the walls while seated in either chair, the room was *that* small. This is where they prayed diligently for their adult children, and I wonder if the present owner feels the presence of the Lord in there.

At that time, early 1990s, I was raising two little boys and was so exhausted at the end of the day, I couldn’t imagine being awake long enough in the night to watch an entire movie.

I can now.

Only I don’t watch movies in the night so as not to disturb my Mr. Amiot, not the Mr. Amiot referred to earlier, while he sleeps soundly through the night. Oh, do I envy that, but only in the nicest way. Besides, if he were up, he’d have the TV on YouTube videos of big machinery or people taking nasty falls. That’s what he watches now that we’ve done the trendy thing—cut the cable TV subscription. By the way, I don’t find those falls at all funny, in fact falling at our age could be quite traumatic and require surgery.

I digress.

I can do that in the middle of the night.

The mantel clock ticks rhythmically, buttons on clothing in the dryer clink softly, and Mr. Amiot is snoring. Nighttime sounds are more distinct than during the day. Anyway, this is the perfect time to do laundry. It’s a reasonably quiet activity to attend to between reading online and reading those antiquated items called books. This is one I’m currently reading, a translation recommended by my pastor’s wife. Mr. Amiot and I weren’t going to exchange gifts this past Christmas, but he cheated and got me a gift card to Books-A-Million (he got plaid flannel pajama pants), so I bought an anachronism called a wall calendar and this ambitious undertaking:

Coffee with a message is a good go-along, and eyeglasses are necessary. The “folded bowl” is an estate sale purchase, something else we older folks often attend in the meantime before ours is held, as is the 80s style table. My mother kept that odious 1970s burnt orange and green decor decades after it was fashionable and to her dying day, and now it my turn not to succumb to gray walls, white everything, farmhouse accessories, and that dreaded “open concept” floor plan. To quote a friend, “Who wants to cook in their living room?”

I digress again. The dryer buzzer just went off, I’ll be right back.

It dawns on me how incredibly boring middle of the night creeping and rambling can be, yet when I last perused books, I didn’t see any telling what ordinary older women are doing. During the last day, I shopped for food to stock in a pantry at church which helps both the members and people from the public deal with obscenely priced groceries. (Like many growing older, I don’t want to outlive my usefulness.) But at night, I’m just another senior citizen dealing with a senior citizen issue that I resolutely decide each night is not an issue.

Ah! Some excitement finally! In my peripheral vision I thought I saw one of those awful huge roaches that plague the southeast. Instead, it was this little fellow or fellowette. The drinking glass and index card trick resulted in this little critter’s freedom out the laundry room door.

As you can see, there is no room for an ironing board in here; yes, I do iron, and have been ridiculed by my family for it a time or ten. I wince a little thinking it is likelier than not that I’ll never have a larger laundry room, but I recall some 37+ years ago being overjoyed that I no longer had to go outside to do laundry. Do we always long for what we don’t have? And is that the reason the Bible instructs us to be content with what we have?

“Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said,

“Never will I leave you;
    never will I forsake you.”—Hebrews 13:5

So I will be content I’ve had no sleep since 2:30 A.M. and took the time to do laundry, journey down memory lane, make a blog post, catch and release a tiny frog, drink coffee, and read…because someone wanted to know? Or at least nod along or nod off as the case may be.

It’s all okay. Next up, I’m hanging out with Someone Else Who isn’t sleeping either. (Psalm 121:4)

Have a blessed morning, day, evening, night, or whatever time you might have read this.

Love,

Mrs. A