Brownian Motion in the Home

Everyone must believe in something. I believe in housekeeping by Brownian motion.

You never set out to clean and neaten and organize. Boring. You let sublime nature take its course. When the molecule glob which is you bumps against a blob of not-you  molecules which seem dirty or out of place you may react, clean it or put it away -- whatever seems necessary.

Or you may not. (What the heck, it isn't +that+ bad. I'll get at it tomorrow.)

It is a low-stress approach to domestic respectability, perhaps something like having a mute, invisible, Martha Stewart drop in once in a while.

Interesting thing about that, though; there seems to be a second absolute zero other than the one Lord Kelvin sort of discovered. Around here, anyway, the titivation-motivator molecule is often  remains inert for weeks, regardless of indicated ambient temperature. So, for days on end, a photo of my quarters would perfectly illustrate the Wiki entry on "entropy."

Other times, like this morning, it gets entirely out of hand.

All I intended was to get some books off the table, the couch, and the kitchen counter and maybe wash the dishes. That was about 8 a.m. Now, three and one-half  hours later, the books are shelved. But also I have vacuumed. I have rehung pictures.  I have cleaned the"miscellaneous" drawer. And, so help me, I am washing blankets.

Please.

Help.

Stop me before I get out the Windex.