I know Sunday should be a day of rest. But today I feel that I should just houseclean. It couldn't be because of all the dust caused by the sanding of the wall in the bathroom that has permeated all through the house, despite the door being shut. It couldn't be because the kitchen floor shows dried puddles of dirt where the snow melted off our shoes when we trampled in from outside. Or maybe it could be those little piles of miscellaneous papers that somehow never find a home. Or those surfaces that seem at this time of year to be constantly dusty. I've discovered that I am not like my friend Becky who told me that she loved to houseclean. Oh, no. It's not that I mind it so much, it's just that it is so constant. The house can look spiffy, but it doesn't stay that way. We are not the kind of people who pick everything up and put it away after we use it. THEre is not a place for everything and everything in its place. But I've discovered that I like the clutter. I like seeing my books laying around just waiting to be read. I love looking at my displays on the tabletops and changing around my table settings. I hate sterile homes that don't show personality. I like having projects that need done. Everyone does their housework in their own way. I used to turn up the music real loud and light candles all over. I'd sing and dance my way through each room. (I wonder where that energy went?). Now I cope by a hit and miss method. If I see it needs done, I eventually get to it in my own good time. (I guess that's what retirement is for). And I think today it is time.