I in a state of domestic suspension, waiting for the lady from the agency to come over to take pictures of the house.

This is not a desk at which any work can be done.

She was supposed to be here on Thursday. I thought I had it ready then, but discovered that Mandelbrot had snuck in that night and installed an infinitely regressing metaphysical ladder of possible domestic perfection I will never reach the end of…

I can feel the tendrils of OCD mania coiling gently and insidiously into my mind… I’m wandering the house, dust cloth in hand, looking for things an inch out of alignment. I feel like I want to follow the kitties around with a lint brush. I am reminded that there are people who live like this all the time, and I am saddened for those poor suffering souls.

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Meanwhile, look forward to my first piece for the Remnant – available in the print edition, subscription e-edition and shortly after that online – on Lent and prayer and why it’s harder than we think it should be.

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