Usually I think of cleaning a room as a chore. But it turns out that there are notable exceptions.
When you are cooped up in one physical space, and don’t have the option to leave, the place where you are takes on new significance. Your electronic presence may roam the world, but your corporal body remains bounded by four walls.
Today I’ve been engaged in radical room cleaning. I’m putting things into neat piles, separating out the useful from the less useful, throwing out the clearly useless.
And it feels absolutely wonderful. It’s as though I am putting my entire world into order.
Which, in a sense — considering the current circumstances — I am.