Cleaning

Suddenly, because that possible dog was on his mind, and because there was nothing else to do, Edward decided to make a tremendous gesture. He would clean his entire room. He would stack the books that lay around so carelessly. He would straighten his toys and his clothes. He'd get out the vacuum and do the rug. Maybe he'd even clean the closet. Yes, that was a great idea. He'd never cleaned the closet in his life. His mother would be so bowled over she'd probably offer him a St. Bernard on the spot.

He plunged in at once, dragging out clothes, books, fishing equipment, old forgotten trucks and games. He put the clothes on the still-unmade bed, shoved everything else out on the floor. It seemed to take an awfully long time to get the closet emptied, and then when he thought he was done he looked up, saw the shelves, and wished he'd never started.

They were absolutely jammed with junk. Well, maybe it wasn't all junk, but it looked it. And now his room was filled to brimming with things that would have to be put away again. He sat on his heels and stared around, thinking that the whole idea of cleaning up was pretty silly. Everything was just going to have to be put back in the closet, so what was the point of taking it out in the first place?

"My word, Edward," said his mother at the door, "what are you doing?"

"Cleaning my room," he said glumly.

"That's a good idea," she said, coming in. "Did all that come out of the closet?"

Edward nodded. "And it all has to go back," he said. "And I was just thinking, what's the point? I mean, where do you get ahead? I don't think I'll clean it after all."

M. Stolz
A Dog on Barkham Street