Operation Clean Sweep

The sun was shining. This meant that she could wear her sandals and allow her feet to breathe after they had been trapped in boots for their own safety for months.

Her son had remembered to bring his washing down which meant that she didn't have to nag and she was able to put two loads on and hang them both out on the line before breakfast. The sun on her back as she lifted the clean washing to float in the breeze was warm and encouraging.

The dishwasher had just enough room to put the dirty crocks from breakfast in so she put that to go, and gazed around the kitchen counters which were clear and empty. This filled her with an inordinate sense of satisfaction. Her work alarm went off and she called to her son who was already putting on his shoes as she headed out of the door.

The drive to work was at her pace. No pensioners heading into town with their hesitancy, brought on by cataracts and diminishing reaction times and creaking limbs, and no tractors. The traffic lights for the hedge cutting had been taken down so the cruise to school drop off was blissful. Good music on the radio, songs she'd not heard for years but loved, made her mood playful and free.

She was dreading work. A difficult customer had complained about a delay and she had left work yesterday knowing that she would have to call them again to apologise if it had not been resolved. The prospect descended like a weight.

Her colleague greeted her and she settled at her desk.

"I suppose I better ring Mr Horton about this delay," she said, putting on her headset and going to dial the number.

"No need. All sorted," was the answer she received and she went on with her day, dealing with queries efficiently and thoroughly, problems arising but being dealt with immediately, so that she left work cleanly.

The sun was still shining as she headed home.

"Takeaway for tea?" her husband suggested. "I'll do the washing up."

Washing folded, she sat on the patio, rested, book open and basked in the sun and well-being.

***

366 words.

These days are like jewels; they come along so rarely but when they do, they light up your life. This isn't a great story, I will admit. In fact, it is pretty ordinary but I have to admit that I had an inordinate sense of satisfaction while writing it, at the rightness of everything in it, that I just had to write it, as a reflection of my own personal experience.

I love days like these. They are, in the chaotic live we lead, a wonder.

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