A life of simplicity and order is hard. It’s more like guerilla warfare than a serene stroll through a meadow. Things don’t naturally stay simple, clean, or in order. My keys are never in the same place I left them, the weeds never stay dead, and the dog continues to leave “numbers” (as my father-in-law calls them) behind. A gradual decline towards disorder is our day-to-day experience, even in the best circumstances.
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