Fresh Oregano, Clean Toilets and Death

When I'm feeling efficient and motivated, I like to use fresh oregano.

But a lot of times I simply cannot muster the ambition to walk 20 feet out into the backyard and cut some. It's like I'm paralyzed by a mind-numbing, bone-deep inertia. Either that or I'm just really lazy.

And then layer some guilt on top of that, because right now it is the end of September and I really should use the oregano before it dies.

I think about death a lot. My own. Not that of the oregano.

Mostly I ponder the nature of God and the afterlife. But sometimes I wonder about my legacy or more specifically, what will people say about me behind my back at my funeral?

She was...what? I don't have a career, and I'm not outstanding at anything. I'd like to have been known as serene, peaceful, kind and loving -- sort of a modern-day Melanie Wilkes. But obviously that's just not going to happen!

I've tried to be a good mother and daughter. And if being a good wife means being faithful and honest, I've got that covered.

In fact -- and this may not be legacy-worthy, but still -- one of the things I'm most contented about is living transparently with no secrets. No reason for subterfuge. No lies (except if I'm invited to some family function and I just plain don't want to go. Then I might "have other plans" or get "sick".)

(Note to any relatives who might be reading this: This does not apply to you. I LOVE going to YOUR house and would forsake any prior commitments and overcome any illness, real or imagined, to do so).

I never made up my mind to "be" anything, although the two subjects I loved in school -- psychology and writing -- are still interesting to me. I was a secretary for a while, and in fact much of my time nowadays is still taken up with heart-stopping, action-packed, clerical-type duties. After all, I am a part-time transcriptionist. And bookkeeper. And I guess I could call myself a blogger if I really wanted a title. (Are there requirements to call oneself a blogger?)

Mostly, though, I'm a housewife, and not a very competent one at that (see the oregano inertia thing above). I have to play all kinds of little tricks on myself to get my housework and other chores done, the latest being Flylady's "Swipe and Shine" routine, in which you clean each of your toilets and bathroom sinks EVERY DAY, and about which I have now become rather obsessive. I don't feel right anymore unless the toilets are sparkling clean, and that's kind of weird.

I won't be able to neatly wrap this ramble up, but then that's the nature of this entire thought. And I guess that's okay for now.

However, if I should die today, I hope at least one person at my funeral will say, "She had some clean toilets. And once in a while she used fresh oregano."