It was on my to do list for a couple of weeks. Maybe a month. My intention was to organize our bedroom which had succumbed to an ever increasing tower of clothes, books, and paraphernalia. 

I pull on clothes before sunrise, and tug them off at night, so it was easy to be in denial about how un feng shui the room had become. But I get asthma in dusty spaces and it could no longer be ignored. 

To reinforce my wobbly resolve I had announced to John and the girls that I was doing this. Cleaning the bedroom. Any minute. Get ready. Here I go. 

Then somehow I began. It was incremental, just empty the basket of not-quite-dirty-enough-for-laundry-but-then-again-not quite-clean-enough-to put-away stuff. I shrugged to find some of my favorite summer shirts near the bottom. Now the days were sashaying into sweater weather, so I tucked the clothes into a drawer for next June. I made piles for give away, throw away and keep, all on the bed so I would be forced to finish dealing with them before I could sleep. 

Then I noticed that John was over by his dresser, whittling the piles. It had not been my secret agenda that he work side by side with me. Yet here he was. It gave me juice. He filled three laundry baskets and carried them to the basement. Last year he spring for a front loading machine, which makes the whole job easier, and though it is usually me who uses it he is cheerful about pitching in. After an hour the  first load came back upstairs, clean, and he did what I never do. Folded the tshirts  in that super tricky way. I think he likes the math involved. 

After a couple of hours, it is not done. But it is better. Much better. I have a bag in the car to take to the thrift store, and another in the trash for pick up. day. What is left are things I actually like to wear. But what is even better, is that we worked together on something that neither of us wanted to do. 

And it wasn't so bad.