Yes, I'm a romantic at heart - hopelessly so. Yet, now and then, I let my readers see that I do not perpetually hover, somewhere between the Cloud of Unknowing and past the stars, in romantic Franciscan bliss. I embrace the consecrated poverty - it can be quite liberating. But it ain't always fun. :)
There is a coin operated washing machine in my building, and I was delighted, yesterday, to find that my coin count was sufficient to do several loads. I was not quite as happy to realise that I was the one to discover that the dryer, though making its best efforts to toss everything within about, no longer was getting hot... I dried the bedding with the iron, and was just about to admire how very nice it all looked (even if it remained slightly damp), when the bed broke. Yes, just collapsed - the wood frame breathing its last. (I have never heard of that happening... and, for the benefit of readers unfamiliar with my site, may I add that no one was sharing the bed with me except the cat.) So, now, I am doing my best to sleep curled on a settee... the bed and lovely bedding leaving only the cat to sleep in the wreckage.
Still, absolute necessities of life I do have, and even a few treats (bath gel, good Earl Grey tea.) Years of vowed poverty do foster a great deal of gratitude for what one has. It also makes one quite skillful in turning the ordinary into the special. For example, one unschooled in the art would be amazed at the attractive meals I can make from whatever I have on hand.
God grant us contentment.
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