On the Restoration of Order


After being massively neglected for pretty much the last three months, I finally got around to fixing up my house today.

My surprising discovery: places can be like people in that they make their displeasure at your negligence felt. So I found that one toilet wasn’t working, the ceiling fans weren’t working, the kitchen sink had sprung a leak, molds had grown up around the front door and the purpurea in the flower boxes had withered.

All throughout, I could feel my little house’s petulant and resentful stare boring into my back as I went around surveying the damage. (“You left me aloooooooone…whimper.”)

And that was how, in spite of fits of asthma, I spent a good part of my break today just putting things in order. After four hours, I had six huge garbage bags filled with things to be disposed of or given away. I still ended up leaving the house in a state of disarray, but at least (AT LEAST!) the long overdue restoration of order in my home had begun.

Thank God.

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