I woke up this morning, stretched, blissfully yawned and thought about all the things I don’t have to do today. See, we have a house elf; you read about them in books, but ours is unique, the perfect make and model for our family. It takes our special qualities as individuals and as a collective family whole and applies a skillset specifically designed to meet our needs.

When I walk in the kitchen each morning, the dish towels are hanging neatly, in a straight line so that they are well dried and ready to be utilized throughout the remainder of the day. The dinner dishes from the previous night are washed and dried in the drying rack. The lineup of family Yeti cups are lined up with hot tea steeping in them.

As I sip my tea, I revel in the clean carpets underneath my toes.I reach over and run my fingers across the tidy little coffee table and it delights me to see no dust, in spite of the dust that constantly fills the air in this bountifully dusty Arizona wind bowl.

I think about the bathroom sink, toilet and bathtub which have been carefully wiped down and cleaned with all natural cleaners, lest something unnatural reach the gray water system that sustains our indoor garden. The spot-free mirror (oh the magic of Norwex window rags) reflects back the face of an un-haggered, well-rested woman with less than a care in the world.

After a nutritious and uncomplicated breakfast that is thoughtfully prepared for 6 very large adult human beings every single day of every single week of every single month of every single year, the dish rack has been emptied and is waiting in anticipation to host the breakfast dishes which will be seamlessly whisked into cleanliness following breakfast. I glance over and note that the dish towel is still pleasantly in perfect alignment with its fellow dish towels. I smile.

And then, I spend the remainder of my morning hours considering all the things I need not worry about: getting groceries, finding clothes for the humans under my care (which could be particularly frustrating (futile?) task, given Lochlan’s current delight in literally ripping the clothes off of his body each day in shreds too small to even eventually be used as rags), picking up feed for the animals, unloading hay, watering gardens, keeping the house clean, building greenhouses, fixing fences, cleaning out gutters, feeding animals, prepping property for fires, prepping property for flooding, maintenance of property, maintenance of house(s), managing Airbnb cabin, maintenance of vehicles, and so so many other potential responsibilities.

Laundry is a dream. I watch our faithful washing machine and dryer take on 1 load, 2 loads, 3 loads every day. When the clean loads are removed from the dryer and placed ipon my bed, they are carefully folded and make their way efficiently to their designated places of residence. Mismatched socks invariably find their mates with the persistent and patient help of our house elf, so my kids are seldom without matched pairs. You will undoubtedly spot Lochlan gallivanting about the forests with one knee high sock of many colors and another black ankle sock, but it is less from necessity as much as from preference. As I sit down to read and sip a hot cup of frothy coffee, I glance back to see the dish towel again… exactly where it should be.

I walk through my weed-free gardens and am caught up in the wonder of it all. I smell the flowers, revel in the abundance of vegetables thriving in the absence of any of my care or attention.

When the garbage disposal plugs, the door of the bathroom breaks into two whole pieces, the check engine light comes on in the Sequoia, the wasp nests proliferate about the property, the water spigot springs a leak, the tree dies and needs to be removed, the dog vomits on the floor, the gallon sized glass jar shatters on the floor, the tiny house roof starts seeping water, the clothes sour in the washing machine, the vacuum stops sucking… I sit and think about all that I don’t have to do.

Before dinner, the kitchen dish towel is STILL in perfect tidy harmony with the rest of the immaculate kitchen. The pre-dinner dish disaster is mastered and the kitchen is amply prepared for the probable post-dinner mess. Because… house elf.

So tonight, it’s cheesecake, sunsets, and a good book on my menu.