So the kids came through on my subtle hint and had Santa Bezos deliver a copy of “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning” this weekend. It’s a charming little tome about getting clear (and clean) in your life so loved-ones won’t have to spend all their energy cleaning up after you when you leave this plane. My father, the inscrutable Boris, always talks about leaving the Earth “debt-free,” and I take that to mean he’s not going to leave much to clean up either. Thanks in advance, Pops.
So I got (gently) pumped to start my death cleaning. (BTW — you don’t have to be imminently facing mortality to start cleaning. Although I’m in good health, you never know when that proverbial bus is going to come out of nowhere.) And one of the first things I found was from a previous death-cleaning of my beloved mother-in-law’s house. In the photo for this post I used it to cheerfully shroud my book. Anybody care to venture a guess as to the purpose of this pink zippered mesh sack?
I’ll give you three choices:
A. Shower caddy to contain all those multi-colored shower poufs.
B. Make-up shroud to keep your “face” intact when you need to pull a garment on over your head.
C. A cover to keep the dust off your beloved Hummel figurines. … that you collect and curate with a sort of maniacal zeal thinking they will be worth enough to finance your grandchildren’s college tuition.