In which the house is unnaturally, spookily clean

It turns out that cleaning house (or, at least, my house, what with all the deferred cleaning/decluttering) is *more stressful* than writing a dissertation. Boggle. So here are some before and after pictures, including closeups of various pieces of anxiety-inducing detritus. One of them, the sideways one that no one is going to be able to read, has a list of pages I have to read *on anxiety* which it turns out is a really funny and dark thing to write a dissertation on, if you think about it, which I did, with the help of my therapist. One of them is an equally teeny and illegible closeup of two of my little self-imposed calendars with the number of pages I had to write on any given day in order to finish on time. Which I did, remember?

All of which is to say - it's still more hair-raising to establish and maintain the fancy clean-house pictures at the end.