I was standing at the sink, distracted by ordinary chores like the dishes, which occupied my hands, and the radio, which occupied my thoughts. In truth, neither was fully engaging my attention because the other things I had to do that day tugged at my mind like a toddler's insistent hand on my hem. The sort of things that require organization and coordination and result in a functioning household, but the doing of which add up to hours of time and nothing more measurable than a good dinner and clean underpants.
