I got hit with the cleaning bug. Not your run of the mill, 'clean because company is coming over' or 'clean counters make me feel in control' type of cleaning bug. I got hit with the 'I want my home to look different and feel different' cleaning bug.
I moved furniture. The living room is now the dining room and vice versa. I wiped down and vacuumed up some pretty scary dirt and found some interesting objects behind and underneath said furniture. I didn't give myself enough time and the new arrangement is yet to be finished.
Thus three plus hours of cleaning and rearranging has made my house a total wreck. Add three teenagers and a puppy to said wreck and the paradox of cleaning makes me chuckle.
Cleaning is no different than life. Taking care of the unseen places of my home is synonymous to taking care of the corners of my soul. They both require work. The beginnings of such an undertaking appear to be a backwards step. Three hours of cleaning 'should' not equal utter chaos. Yet it does and thus it 'should'. It will never be totally done. Even in the chaos, I feel lighter.
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