cleansing

i always read about these cleanses people go on, wherein they imbibe things that clean out the insides of their bodies. it works for some, and i won't knock it, but i personally figure that nature works well enough on its own.

no, my cleansing is cleansing of the household. there's a good bit of cleaning to be done, and with the day stretching like a waking cat before me, i find myself lingering in front of the computer, knowing that this is another part of my cleaning--just like restocking the paper towels in the kitchen, i need to get out on paper the little beasts that live inside my mind.

one of my housemates, a seventeen-pound mass of short white fur, gingery-tabby spots, and a rumbling purr, is trying to annex my lap. why he only wants to do this while i type is beyond me, but in deference to his random affection, i'm going to type fast and then try to fill his cuddle tank, just like i often ask dan to fill mine with an even spent leaning together on the couch.

at any rate, the carpet is vaguely crunchy and in need of vacuuming, and the kitchen is a mess. i suppose it's a cycle that will go on forever, just like the sun coming up every darn morning.

then again, i welcome the sun each day, and i suppose in the end that it's cathartic to clean up the outer areas of my existence, and do some internal straightening, too.