When the end came, my house was still mostly standing, and everything inside was a mess. Outside there was fire and chaos and death, and inside it was a mess. Nothing was where it was supposed to be.
So I started organizing. I started with the living room, sorting everything into different piles. Things to keep. Things to throw away. Things to recycle. The first and last piles were actually a bunch of different piles. There were books and CDs and plates that needed cleaning and glass bottles and aluminum cans.
I repeated this procedure in every room in my house, and in the living room I consolidated all of the piles into larger piles. Then I set to work putting everything away. I don't know how long it took--even if the sky wasn't black with smoke I wasn't paying attention to time--but I was exhausted by the end. I went to sleep on a clean bed with the sheets tucked in.
In the morning I read a book and went outside to drink my morning coffee. Then I put the mug in the sink and decided I could wash it later. Right now I was going for a walk.
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organization
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