I cleaned out my closet today. R took the wee one downstairs for an hour and I cleaned my closet. Instead of sleeping or eating or reading. There's something about having a clean closet that can pull you (okay me) through even the most dense chaos. Cat just spilled berry ice tea on the white sheets - that's okay my closet is clean. Baby puke on my freshly washed shirt and already ten minutes late leaving the house - no problem did I mention my closet? Almost as powerful as fresh school supplies in September.
The Stuff of Dreams
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