I pick things up and put them down
So times it feels as though I spend hours every day moving things around my house. Sick from dining room table (?) to drawer. Drawing taped to wall. Toys in bins. Toys in bins. Toys in bins. Books on shelf. Dishes to cabinets. Dishes to dishwasher. Floss to bathroom. It's weird to think about, this constant moving this from here to there to there because it is better there.
Also, I believe the world is dissolving. Slowly. Everything is breaking apart, at the gradual rate of plate tectonics. Slowly everything is particlizing into small bits, fractions of itself. And all these bits of the planet are drawn to my hardwood floors as their resting place.