Even when I anticipate something like this happening, I'm never really prepared. I got a day and a half to settle in (one spent cleaning the bathroom) and then hit the ground like a greyhound after the tin rabbit. No time to adjust to the new schedule, new Office prayers, readings: everything familiar enough to be misleading, different enough to trip me up when I assume I know what's coming next. I find myself in a state of chronic dis-ease.
Long Retreat begins at the end of this week and everything here is in upheaval. The old convent, recently vacated by two Sisters who have moved to assisted living/nursing facilities is a mammoth glory hole. Not only deep cleaning, but tedious going through, sorting out, throwing away is required, since four of the city Sisters will be staying there. We've been at it since Monday (no Sabbath this week) and empty boxes and giant black garbage bags litter the hallways. It was a good month-long job crammed into five days. The small chapel, unused except for storage of garden tools for the past two years, has been opened up and is being cleaned out… another task requiring more time than we have.
As each day counts down the pressure mounts. We are too few battling the clutter and dirt on too many fronts. Everyone is already exhausted, but nobody is (as yet) cutting corners. One Sister struggles to make cheese. It is her thing. She wants fresh cheese for the Sisters to enjoy on Long Retreat. But every sink is full, every large pot in use. There's nothing to cook supper in, no place for anyone to wash a dish or their hands. Tension is thick, nerves are frayed and tempers flare up like fatwood. We end up stepping on each other's toes and stomping on each other's feelings. Another Sister arrives on the scene in the middle of my second meltdown of the morning. "What's wrong?" she asks sympathetically. I have no energy to go into it. "I's been a bad morning!" I growl. I don't want her sympathy, I want her to change her clothes and haul garbage. She doesn't even get the day and a half.
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