You wouldn't know this by looking at my home on an average day, but I actually do enjoy organizing and cleaning. I despised it as a young person. I thought it was slavery to dust. Cruel torture to clean a closet. Death to scrub a bathtub.
The pleasantness of middle age is that one can actually be lifted up by the chores once resisted in youth. Having a home to clean is actually a privilege. A gift. A blessing. But normally I don't see it that way. It's only when I have a large block of time to actually make a dent in it when it feels good. The up side of having a temporarily sick child is that we don't have to go anywhere or do anything important. We can just be.
And when things get cleaned out, there's suddenly room for imagination. Perhaps I had another reason for going on a sorting spree. The book I'm writing can be avoided if I have to do another pressing task, like sorting socks, which suddenly feels super important with so many ideas and nothing to write!
Today we're going to enjoy the results of having the laundry caught up and the closet space under the stairs cleaned out. On a whim, I thought it would be fun to make a hideaway out of the new space. Letting go of the need to be a packrat, I let some things go in order to do this:
Feel better soon, Elliot!