Most can attest to the notion of "spring cleaning." That idea of a long winter of hibernation resolving with light, dust, and dirt. I like cleaning. I don't not enjoy it. It's a challenge when your job is cleaning, so the last thing you wanna do when you're home is clean. My home is sanctuary, escape, and R n R. You know, the painting contractor whose own house needs a paint job. What I like most is the mental knowledge of something "clean." It smells clean. It feels clean. It's hard work too depending of how much cleaning has been done in between, and how much time has passed since the last cleaning. I'll leave it at that.
Decluttering. I'll start by saying I'm a simple, unmaterialistic person. I've always been the own what I use and absolutely need person. Well, through the years, and getting older, all the possessions obtained start to rule over what gets thrown out. I'm also the person who owns mostly sentimental and handmade objects, while some have to be functional, but this attachments makes it harder. Then the idea of it's good to have it especially if you can't easily acquire something in a time of need. Then the idea of things sitting in a closet for years, but there's meaning to it. It's very freeing to get rid of stuff. It bogs down the spirit ultimately. Through life, death, and work, and wrapped up in it these collections are a trap. For me, it's like drowning. It's heartbreaking at its core. It's a futile effort when in one second, every and anything can end.
I miss my cats. I said I'd never get another animal, but I know that's wrong.