It's quiet up here in my office, where the click click of the keys on my keyboard is the only sounds I'm aware of. I just returned from downstairs with a fresh cup of coffee; down there it's not nearly as quiet as it is in my writing sanctuary.
Downstairs the washing machine bumps and grinds through it's cycle (we will never buy that brand of machine again), and the dishwasher hums quietly doing it's own work. From outside I heard the sound of the garbage truck approaching and when I glanced outside I saw all the green bins lined up on the street like silent soldiers standing at attention.
As I thought about how much was happening while I sat upstairs oblivious to the all of the activity, I realized how blessed I am to be living in this particular place at this particular time. A hundred years ago, my grandmother would have done her laundry and dishes much differently than the way that mine is done today and her trash would not have been disposed of quite so easily. A morning spent only on activities dear to her heart would likely have been impossible.
Certainly circumstances are not perfect in the way that we live our lives in 2010, in fact I dream about a simple farm life where I can grow a garden, have a few chickens, and hang my laundry outside in the sunshine. For today though, I'm thankful for the conveniences that allow me time to follow my passion.