Monday was stimulating. Tiring. It knocked two hours off my evening and sent me to bed at ten sharp.Monday I dug in. Put on my gloves, bought some bleach and large garbage bags and began the often stomach turning chore of removing somebody else's sad life from my little houses. There was a lot to it. Yes it was physical work but that was minor compared to the emotional experience. This man lived with a bleach splattered futon couch molding and broken in the middle and the side. He threw his cigarette butts on the floor. He applied a cable lock to an oil can on his front stoop. He ate fast food and let the soiled plastic containers drift under the couch and accumulate. He also ate Honey Nut Cheerios which I also love and was tempted, in spite of everything, to eat from the boxes in the cabinet. He had a tidy drawer filled with batteries and local menus. He had a couple of bowls that must have belonged to his gramma. It wasn't a matter of how quickly can I empty this space. I considered each item and the man who had come before. Dump, recycling, free pile, Craigslist, keep? His time here has ended. I want to honor that. He is gone because I am here. I am here little house... And I will love you in all the ways that he did not.