.

Throwing a load of bath towels in the wash was all I could handle. Seven suitcases and duffles litter the upstairs hallway, their contents waiting to be removed, sorted and eventually returned to a half dozen drawers and closets. But this morning, after returning from a Colorado ski trip with all four kids and a twenty-six hour travel delay, the stacks of bath towels left laying around after our hasty departure were what I chose to wash. Unpacking was overwhelming and the towels were my comfort food.

Beef brisket with shredded cheesy potatoes is the meal I take to friends who are inundated by life. Children with broken limbs, family deaths and hysterectomies have me toting my big wicker basket of calming cuisine. When Suzanne had her third baby, her husband described my meal as “cake”. This was his complement for a meal whose main course was as good as dessert.

We want something comforting when we’re overwhelmed. When I don’t want to scrub the pots after dinner, especially the one with rice glued to the edges, I sneak to the cupboard for a bit of dark chocolate. The smoothness of the sweet and the delay from my task takes the drudgery away when I do return to the sink. A glass of wine does the trick after helping with pre-Algebra while changing a stinky diaper and enlightening an eight year old about the evils of five hours of video games.

But was my load of bath towels a comfort food, or was I procrastinating about the other six loads that needed unpacked, sorted and washed? Probably both. I let the kids sleep in because our travel delays had us arriving home at 1:15 AM. As I dropped them at school, about an hour tardy, I thought, “I am SO glad I don’t have to go to school today.” I’ve earned my right to procrastinate. My Algebra problems were done years ago, I fed my babies only homemade food, and the cat’s litter box is clean. With only five hours of sleep, I’ve decided the world will not end if I don’t unpack and do the laundry today.

Instead, I’ll unpack a bit at a time, savoring the days we skied with each snot swiped glove and stinky long underwear I throw in the wash. The mystery of the snow-covered mountains will creep into my soul, while I stack my own peaks of dirty clothes, tonight or tomorrow. There is no comfort in rushing. I’m taking today one load at a time.