Bones of the Ancestors

Yesterday, Herself decided that while her computer was out to be repaired and Beloved Husband was away for the weekend, she might as well take advantage of the time she might otherwise spend roaming about the internet to tidy up the study.

She tackled the bookshelf.  First, she gathered all the promotional literature for her former employer, as well as her to-do lists from that job, and filed them away in their own folder in the closet that contains archived papers. (The to-do lists that were oddly heartwrenching.) Then, she refolded her taekwondo black belt and put it upon the shelf, knowing that because of her back and her hip, she will not likely ever be able to step upon the martial arts mat again.  Finally, she took the tins containing the ashes of Ancient And Decrepit Dog and Ottoman-shaped Dog from where they were in the kitchen, and placed them on the newly-emptied shelf.  It seems fitting to have them in the study, for they spent a great deal of time keeping Herself company in there.

It was much like arranging the bones of Herself's ancestors.  Dia de los muertos. 

It is hard when all the recent griefs and losses rear their heads together. 

Herself thinks that perhaps a Good Cry would help, but in the absence of anyone, man or beast, who would provide consolation through her tears, she turned to the next best resort:  she cleaned.  She gave the Aged And Venerable Cavy a bath and scrubbed his habitat, and she washed the surly Ancient Bird's cage as well. She took care of four loads of laundry. She vacuumed and steam-cleaned all the downstairs carpets. Plus a few other things. It helped.  

And so it goes.