I was just vacuuming the kitchen, you know, digging into the trim along the floor underneath the sink, a place that never seems to get totally clean. I got all the vaccumable stuff, but still. My inner goldbrick spoke up, “Aw, that’s good enough. Consider the dirt a sign of life ongoing.” Then I thought back to how perfectly immaculate my childhood house was. What did that signify? I also thought of how some of my mom’s ashes wound up in a vacuum cleaner. more…
How Clean Should a Home Really Be?
Thoughts I have while cleaning.
