There are weeks when life lives you.

Meetings. Appointments. A deadline. Or two. An unexpected delay. Bad timing.

You know.

Wednesday – or maybe it was Thursday? – I thought I was going here, but I needed to go there instead. And I could pencil plans in my datebook, but I’d better be sure I kept my eraser handy.

(At last count, I’ve rescheduled my annual eye exam three times.)

All of that erasing can be stressful.

Until you decide not to give in to the stress.

It’s best, I think, when you realize it’s one of those weeks to just drop the reins along with any other attempts at control.  Just give your way over to the gallop, hang on, and find out where you end up.

I was a little resistant at first, I admit, and hopeful maybe life would slow to a more gentle trot by week’s end.

But it didn’t.

Honestly, when life lives you on weeks like this, our homes show the strain. Yesterday’s coffee cup and water bottles sit side by each on the kitchen counter along with mail and newspapers. Our dining room table’s served up a main course of folders, binders, miscellaneous this, thats, and the others.

Let’s not even discuss the laundry and trail of outfits I’ve lived in this week, left behind like breadcrumbs in case I need to find my way back to sane.

Which is where I was.

Last Sunday.

So be it, stress. Whatever.

Yesterday, I moved from room to room like a butterfly drifting from flower to flower.

Serene and saying no … to stress.

All that chaos. All that clutter. Each piece of evidence that life’s been a little … irregular … tucked away, back where it belongs. Doing what I could to quiet life where I live.

Order restored.

And a little bit of sanity too.