October 17, 2009
White Dog watched as Steve pulled stuff out of his closet. She yielded space inch by inch as he piled things all over the chairs and floor space. "What is going on?" was the question as White Dog came and sat next to me in the living room. "You know I didn't have anything to do with making the mess," she added as Steve set an armful of shirts on White Dog's napping chair. "I know you are blameless. Dad is is cleaning out his closet and I do believe he has some method to this apparent madness." She hopped up on my shoulder and together we watched Steve scurry back and forth...sometimes carrying stuff...sometimes taking hangers or empty bags back to the closet. Finally, Steve came out and sprawled on the couch very pleased with himself. "I have a pile for laundering...a bag that needs to go to the dry cleaners...and bag of donatable materials...and I have already taken a bag to the trash! You should see how clean and orderly the closet is now!" White Dog jumped off the chair and went to see the miracle. Both returned and sat on the couch and stared at me. "Dad's closet is so clean that I can even lie down on the floor! When are you going to get to your closet?" White Dog challenged. I mumbled, "when I run out of meaningful things to do!"