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.