Sometimes the tasks of the day seem to weigh me down. They are just more to-dos in a sea of them. But other times, they are actions of such richness and delight that I wonder why I ever thought them otherwise.

Take today, for instance. Since I’m working at home I leisurely brewed a pot of tea, whipped up one of my strawberry milkshakes and had both at the ready as I read through email. It was a pleasure to give Copper his pill, to coax him to eat his breakfast by sprinkling a meaty treat on the dog food.

What makes the difference, I think, is time. When I rush through each chore, I am only in check-off mode. There is no presence. Whereas when I’m not in a rush, the day spreads out before me, a banquet of sights, smells and activities.

Tripping the light fantastic means dancing nimbly. Tripping the light domestic means walking lightly through the day.