How VERY unspiritual I can be...

I suppose that every blog needs some posts which are purely personal. I've decided to oblige, lest my readers think that I am in a perpetual haze of seeking Light and floating on the ceiling or something. The fact is: life in the anchorhold just is. Prayer, mostly liturgical - long hours at the books - manual labour (my least favourite part) - and trying to cherish the solitude while, at least sometimes, inwardly wishing the loneliness would ease.

As those following my saga are aware, I moved into a new flat on the 24th. It's adequate for one person, certainly (three rooms, not a studio), and I'm gradually getting used to that, if I sit back in the computer chair, I may tumble into the bed. The location is good - bus and train nearby, stores walking distance. For a Franciscan, this is nearly a palace. It is a late Victorian building, once a home for a family and their servants, now split up into six flats. I have what probably was the servants' quarters (though, when I commented about this to the man who fixed the faucet, he said "it was probably just the cellar.")

But I'll reveal that I do have to whinge a bit. I'm not all that fond of housekeeping, but am meticulous about the cleanliness of kitchen and bathroom. It is taking me some time to adjust to that I must share the latter with the cat, who tends to need the loo just when I'm about to relax in a hot tub. Talk about destroying the one sensual moment of most of my days... The bathroom/toilet is directly next to the kitchen, and neither have windows, so I have this odd feeling that I am spending half my life either dumping the cat's box, sponging the floor, or burning incense (it is lavender or vanilla, but, somehow, in the close quarters, has a scent which makes it seem I'm smoking cannabis.)

Between all the lifting, carrying, and climbing up and down the back stairs, my back aches and my feet are badly blistered. Which makes me want to sink into a hot tub full of aromatherapy oils... which serves as the cue for the cat to need to crap once again.

The 'absent-minded professor' is no myth, as I've proven countless times during my life. I celebrated my first night here by setting off the smoke alarm - I'd put in toast, accidentally hit a button that cancels the toasting with my elbow, then absently just pressed the toast down again.... Later, I knocked over the cat food when I plugged the nice little canister vac I just bought into the outlet I did not realise was quite so near the canister. After a long struggle with dust pan and vac, I went to put the vac away... accidentally grasping, not the handle, but the part that releases the rubbish. So, back to the floor, which was now decorated not only with about a week's worth of cat food but all the dust and such that I'd picked up in the first place.

Lest anyone think I am unaware of the problems in this world, I not only most definitely am, but spend part of my day holding them close in prayer, whether war in the East or water devastation in the far West. I am fully aware that much of the world would be delighted to have what I do, and I am indeed very grateful. Were I doing as I was trained, and 'setting a good example,' I'd say that silly things such as those bothering me do not matter. Yet I think it is important to admit that often they do! The adjustment is hard, and I'm exhausted, depressed, and anxious. So, if anyone has read this far, I ask for your prayers.