New Year, Middle-earth, and the Art of Chores

January 1, 2026. The world outside is quiet, still shaking off the remnants of last night's celebrations. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of fresh coffee and the faint, grounding smell of lemon-scented floor cleaner.

I decided to start this year differently. No grand resolutions, no "new year, new me" manifestos. Instead, I started with the dishes. There’s something meditative about the steam rising from the sink, the rhythmic scrubbing of plates that held last night’s feast. It’s a way of clearing the slate, literally and figuratively.

After the dishes came the laundry—the soft tumble of the dryer providing a backing track to the morning. Chores are often seen as a burden, but today they felt like a ritual. A way to reclaim my space and prepare for the months ahead.

And then, the main event: The Lord of the Rings marathon.

As Frodo and Sam began their journey from Bag End, I settled into my favorite chair with a warm blanket. There’s a certain comfort in returning to Middle-earth. The stakes are high, the journey is long, and the friendship is unbreakable. It feels like the perfect metaphor for starting a new year—acknowledging the long road ahead but finding joy in the companions and the small moments of peace along the way.

By the time the Fellowship was formed at Rivendell, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. The house is clean, my mind is calm, and I’m ready for whatever 2026 has in store.

"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future," Galadriel said. Maybe that starts with just doing the laundry and watching a good movie.

Happy New Year.