Much of my life is occupied with words. I write; always working on my next book. I also read books; lots of them. I am always reading at least one book, sometimes two (only when one is a novel and the other is a book about the craft of writing). My work as a public speaker revolves around words, as does my work with Coming to the Table. I try to find the right words to convey my exact meaning in emails, Facebook and blog posts, on Twitter, and in front of a convention audience or a classroom. I’m a writer and I love my writing life.

I didn’t get any writing done yesterday. There were two tasks around the house that required my attention.

First, as I do each year in October, I borrowed a compressor from a friend of mine to blow the water out of our sprinkler system so the pipes won’t freeze and burst over the winter. The hardest part of the whole operation is lifting the heavy compressor into and out of our Jeep to transport it. The actual job takes about half an hour and we’re now set for winter.

Second, the latch in our front door finally bought the farm. It’s been getting more and more cantankerous over the past year and finally froze up completely. It stuck partway out and no amount of graphite would loosen it. We could no longer shut the door. That might be okay in summer, during the daytime, but not with winter approaching. I drove to the hardware store and Gil, a guy who has been helping me locate what I’ve needed to fix things for as long as I can remember, helped me find the right replacement latch. Though I was concerned with my ability to reassemble the door knob (I always dread finding one little piece left on the ground after everything is put back together), it all slipped together like a dream. The door opens and closes again like new.

With so much of my life devoted to sitting in front of a laptop, or an open book, or walking along the river thinking about what I’m writing, or want to write, there is a sense of satisfaction in accomplishing such physical acts as blowing out the sprinkler lines and fixing the doorknob that I don’t often receive. The doorknob in particular, because fixing one is such a rare activity for me, brings a smile to my face whenever I’ve opened that door since yesterday. I have to remind myself not to talk about this stuff out loud since everyone in the house already knows I fixed it. So these moments of physical gratification are mostly private.

Until I write a blog post about them…

What gives YOU little moments of satisfaction?