Sneeze

So I had my birthday on April 8. Always the beginning of the lent season, this date has always been marked by a great desire to get down to my knees and pray. Why is time for prayer always short? Once while praying with my mother, I had to say wait, because I needed to make sure that I’ve locked the door downstairs and unplugged all electrical appliances. My birthday was not different. At home work and domestic chores merge, and if not for my very considerate mother who never wants to interrupt whatever I maybe doing, I would be perennially “busy” with mundane details that can’t be ignored. Right now, as I type this piece, Boy, the carpenter is finishing up the new aparador we had him build so that all my “things” can finally fit in one neat box, and my view would somehow clear up once the papers go in. Since Friday, this room has been turned into a workshop. Boy has been hammering and sawing but, since I have deadlines to meet, I continue to write even as saw dust bring me tears and a sneeze. While I make sure that I move away from the computer every half or so hour, I can’t seem to rest with sudden onsets of thoughts such as what paint we should use for the walls or who can we call to repair the leak on the roof. (Why is it raining in April?) Helen is brushing the cabinets with solignum and I.... Haaats-sing!" 'cuse me. Up to this moment, my most ardent wish is that I could have a quieter, more isolated room where I can pray more. And it’s already the third day after my birthday!