july 22, 2001. We were supposed to go to the beach today, but I made a command decision to stay home & clean for Dirk's visit. In a variable number of days (maybe 3, maybe 4, maybe 5) he'll be in the living room, sucking up to the cat and laughing at my jokes. It all seems like a wonderful dream...that is, until I started cleaning today. I'm allergic to dust, cats & living hardwood; 2 out of 3 are kicked up by rigorous cleaning. My nose has seized up constantly for hours, my throat has a burr in it and my head aches ever so slightly - but at least my kitchen and bathroom are no longer filthy pits of filth. I wonder if I'm becoming house-proud? It doesn't seem likely; I'm far too lazy & self-centred, not to mention too poor to afford fabulous furnishings (in Halifax on Friday I looked at a magnificent armchair that cost more than my entire household...times four.) Am I nesting? That's a little more likely. I'm not pregnant (touch wood), but I am looking forward to next year, when I'll feel infinitely more comfortable in this town than I did last September. Living here is like a permanent vacation, but it's still nice to know where everything is. I talked to my mom on the phone this morning. I had no idea how bored and tired and discontent she's been in the last few years, and I don't think that I would've ever figured that out if I hadn't heard her today, when she is still on her plateau of experience. Today she is energized, excited, engaged, all those good things that make life worth living. She found something in the Dominican that's put her life on the rails again and I couldn't be happier. I think it comes from 2 solid weeks of being exactly where you're supposed to be, and knowing that in every second that goes by. She couldn't stop talking this morning, and I can't wait until I call her again to hear everything else. There's a family barbeque this afternoon, and I can't help worrying that some of her madcap joy will be deflated by listeners who only want to hear about the latrines with no toilets and the day she bought a machete (with the help of 6 people and was immediately offered a ride on a moped that she regretfully turned down) before their attention span expires. I hope not. I need to know that this feeling will stay with her for the rest of her life. And now I want to go on a mission. It's not like the Madeline book, where one girl gets appendicitis and the rest of the school wants all the excitement of having their appendices out too. Really it's not. It's just that after hearing about this trip, every other thing that I do seems petty and bourgeois in comparison. Who am I to worry about my waistline, or the dark hair on my face, when I could be teaching hygiene and sex ed to kids who live far from indoor plumbing? As if to underline this point, the text of today's sermon was the story of Mary & Martha. Truly, your mother has chosen the better part. this time 3 years ago: the world is my oyster