There was a time when I would have been irritated (at best) or depressed (at worst) to find a hole in something I own. In those days, a hole or tear or other defect meant it was time to say goodbye to that item and, usually, replace it (whether we had the money or not).

These days, normal wear and tear makes me smile; which is a good thing, considering the number of random rips I witnessed last week. I kid you not, I found a hole in something we own every day for five days straight. But, let’s get back to smiling about them, because they’re just reminders that real people live here.

We have no parlor, where shoes are off limits and no feet are allowed on the furniture. Each bed in our home has only two sets of sheets – when one is on the bed, the other is in the hamper and, if you time it right, you never have to fold that blasted fitted sheet! We reserve nothing just for guests, because who has money to buy something that never gets used?

I remember my mother teaching me to darn socks and have never forgotten that sense of accomplishment – repairing something and extending its life. Isn’t it odd that at a time when human beings are living and working longer than any generation prior to us, we treat so much of what’s around us as disposable?

As a maker, I always want to be doing something, but as a mother/volunteer/employee/human being, I don’t always have the energy or creativity needed. For those moments, there’s nothing better than mending. No deep thinking or heavy lifting needed, but all the satisfaction of a completed project.

Until I find another hole.

*Lest you think I’m exaggerating about the number of holes I encountered last week, here’s a glimpse of my very human household.