The Life Changing Magic Of Tidying Up Novels & Stories

**Patricia’s POV** The house was finally quiet. Too quiet, really...like the kind of quiet that makes your skin prickle because you know it won’t last, so I had to act fast before I get caught. I’d spent the last hour tidying up the living room after breakfast: fluffing the throw pillows Mrs. Christopher insisted on having in every corner, wiping down the glass coffee table until it gleamed, vacuuming the Persian rug that probably cost more than my yearly salary. The kitchen was spotless too. I had done the dishes, wiped the counters, the faint scent of lemon cleaner still hanging in the air.

It was a mess — clothes draped on the chair, takeout containers in the trash, bed unmade. I started with the bed — smoothed the sheets, fluffed the pillows, folded the spare blanket for Jonas. Then the floor — picked up scattered socks, shoved them into the duffel under the bed. The table — wiped the coffee ring, stacked the few books I’d brought into a neat pile. The bathroom — scrubbed the sink, hung fresh towels, hid the half-empty shampoo bottle behind the curtain. It wasn’t much, but it felt like something. Like I was making space for good things. For friends. For laughter. For a piece of my old life that didn’t cut.

I did the same with anything else that reminded me or him of what we once had. Once the wardrobe was empty, I turned to the other parts of the room, pulling books, shoes, and even some pictures we never hung up from the shelves. I tossed out anything that felt too intimate, too connected to our time together. The stuff I could handle, I folded and placed into a box. The rest? I shredded or threw away. By the time I was done, the place felt emptier, like I had finally erased the last traces of myself from his life.

I sat there for a long time, a dainty, high-achieving woman in a perfect house, waiting for a life that was never going to come home. I didn't move until the clock chimed eleven, a clear, mocking sound that echoed through the halls. I stood up, my movements stiff and robotic, and began to clear the table. I scraped the expensive food into the trash, polished the silver, and wiped down the mahogany until it shined like a mirror. By the time I was finished, the house looked as if no one had ever been there at all. I went upstairs, brushed my hair exactly one hundred times, and lay down on my side of the

"Claire—" "Not literally. But close enough." I set down the plate. "I spent twenty-seven years slowly disappearing. Making myself smaller, quieter, more useful. Trying to earn love through sacrifice. And one day I just... I saw the end of that path. Saw where it led. And it was nowhere. Nothing. Just me, erased completely, and nobody noticing I was gone." "So you decided to exist instead?" "I decided to be frivolous. Selfish. Wasteful. All the things I was taught not to be." I pick up another plate. "Turns out being selfish feels a lot like being alive."

Turning on the lights, I realized how beautiful the house was, completely stunning with the modern furniture and designs. "If you want you can change it." He said, I nodded and walked upstairs to our room. After taking the bath, I wrapped myself with a towel and opened the bags, finding that they are filled only with my out-going clothes which are way too uncomfortable to wear for sleep. Karan It's almost been an hour and I think Adah must have freshened up, it is late so I better take a short shower too and hit the bed.

For now, I don't want to be noticed. I enter my bedroom. My amazement at my dresses not being in their proper placements. I take a look at my bookcases. It is utterly disorganized. I doubt that thinking about how disorganized my room is would allow me to sleep. I start setting my dresses in order. I took care to arrange everything in its proper color-red location. It took me an hour to finally make my clothing seem presentable. Every scratch paper on my table is covered when I look at it. Then I disposed of all of those rubbish items in the trash can. I then proceed to move toward my book bookcases.

We spent the next two weeks focusing on setting up the lab and making sure that the entire house was put in order. Like me, Megan had an aversion to clutter. We didn’t mind if a room was either empty or sparsely furnished as long as it was clean and not riddled with dust. So, while we shopped, lugged from the store as well as the old house, and organized, the cleaning crew was kept busy going from room to room.

he called back, his voice warm as sunlight. The sound of the door clicking shut was the last thing I heard before sleep reclaimed me, pulling me back into its embrace. *** I found myself rummaging through a stack of books that likely belonged to Jacob from his university years. None of them were fiction. These were all about life lessons and self-improvement. Titles like Rich Mindset and Atomic Habits caught my eye, their well-worn spines suggesting they had been thoroughly read. But one title stood out above the rest, stopping me cold:

“Thanks, I’ll get my coffee and then make the cookies.” “Alright, I’ll be cleaning the bathrooms anyhow. I’m finished in here. So, I will leave you to do it. Enjoy yourself.” “Thank you.” Ms. Higgins left the kitchen, shaking her head. Julie quickly set up to make the cookies. With everything laid out in a neat order so she forgot nothing as she moved through the stages of creating the cookies. The day she learned she wasn’t a failure, but a visual person. Her life changed because her way of organizing everything changed. She still struggled with the organizing and staying organized parts. But it was learning to accept things would happen and forgive herself when they did.