Nothing is more satisfying than 

a freshly-made bed, 

sheets and blankets worn

from tumbling over themselves in the dryer,

or reorganizing a desk, or bureau, or nightstand

that are heavy with months of clutter,

a precarious pile of mostly junk

that could topple over with only the slightest touch,

or taking care of the clean clothes,

divided between several laundry baskets

that have been lived out of for weeks

and now every article is unfolded and wrinkled.

I’m vacuuming a layer of dog hair from my carpet,

and I’m getting my life back.