I was so thankful for sunlight streaming through my windows this morning.
It made all the scrubbing, wiping, and folding seem somehow a little more lovely.
When I stood at the same window eight hours later, darkness pressing in from the outside,
the mood was decidedly less romantic
and the view of the soapy dishwater before me not quite so soothing.
But there remains a strange salve in the lone task of standing before a kitchen sink,
wiping away the dirt of the day.