"A messy room is a messy soul." (Part II)

~ Nana

I cleaned today. Two whole rooms. Granted, one was my bathroom that's smaller than a walk-in closet, and I didn't even touch inside the shower. The other room is the one I'm in now, with my computer, my binders and notebooks, my stacks of paper and bills and letters and various statements from the past five-ten years. (Prioritizing = difficult).

Some weeks just fly by while others, like this one, contain days that seem so long they have their own individual story-lines and subplots. I despise the small stuff, that which arises out of ego and insecurity. I hate it! Yet, despite knowing better, I step right in. I succumb. I worry about things I can't control, I don't choose kindness.

And so I clean. Mindless scrubbing, sorting and stacking, and throwing away of a ton of useless stuff. It looks pretty decent for the time being, though I could probably spend another hour cleaning and still have more I could do. It's finally reached the high 80s in Cincinnati, and with the humidity and my lack of air conditioning, I can only spend so long moving around.

(This is a fraction of the books I couldn't fit on my bookshelf; I like piles.)