It strikes me as strange, how pieces of your life all come together, as if it were planned. Yesterday was kind of stressful day, and I was trying to get the house cleaned. I'd gotten behind this week. Way behind. Clutter makes me nervous, as anal as that sounds. I like things neat. The phone kept ringing, and they were important calls, and I was walking around with a phone to my ear doing housework. I'd gotten some sleep, I felt better than I had all week, and I don't take those sorts of days for granted anymore. When I get them, I use them. One of the things I did was empty out my CD case, wipe the dust off each CD, sort them out by genre. I actually put the whole CD turnstile into the bathtub and washed away an embarrassingly large number of dustbunnies. As I replaced the CDs, I came across many that I'd forgotten about, and I separated them out to listen to again. One was Officium, by the Hilliard Ensemble. Initially, when I listened to it, I was disconcerted by the saxophone wandering through the Gregorian Chant. It just didn't fit together. It was like smoking in church, or having sex at the altar. I listened to it a couple of times through, and after I got over the initial surprise of it, I found that it flowed together nicely, and was soothing. However, no one else in this house shares my penchant for Gregorian Chant, and so it was one of those things which, once put in the CD rack, languished quietly with the ever increasing dust bunny population and my cherished bluegrass collection.
Today, it is snowing, again. I am (okay, I was, before I got sidetracked) folding laundry. And I am listening to Officium. The house is quiet, and I am alone, and I am at peace. Although the gift was mailed out probably three years ago, it was sent for today, I think. And it is perfect. Although I've lost track of the giver, I say to Jeremy, thanks again.