Birds In the Storm

One winter morning, the disorderly state of my house weighed quite heavily on my heart. I felt like the ancient Sisyphus of Greek mythology, eternally condemned to roll an immense boulder up a mountain, only to have it slip and roll away as he neared the finish line.  Like Sisyphus,  I felt as if my days were consumed by pushing piles of dirty laundry, dishes and displaced toys up a mountainside until they lurched down to bury me, day after live long day.