You may have noticed that over the last two days, an item high on my theoretical priority list has been to clean my house. Each day, however, I have found myself with no motivation to do so. On grief, my house looks like it has thrown up. There are (clean) clothes still packed in suitcases from my trip to NH, there are dishes on the counter and (gasp) in the living room, the bed is unmade, the trash cans are overflowing, and generally the house is a mess. I don’t like living like this, but it somehow feels appropriate. It’s a reflection of my mind right now, one which is trying to sort through the senselessness of tragedy and which is fairly confused now. Still, I need to get the house in order, if only in an attempt to restore some sort of order to my mind.