There have been plenty of other lovely sunny days when I've thought, 'I was going to do some house cleaning, but it's far too lovely a day to waste inside...'
I wonder what makes for one choice over the other?
It's not mood - or not wholly mood. I've been known to clean as a form of therapy or self-punishment when I'm grumpy or a a bit melancholy, or when I was cheerful and go-gettery, or just 'oh well, it needs to be done'-ish.
It hasn't much to do with the perceived state of my bedroom. I have a dust allergy (we're a sizable minority) so I intermittently turn out my room as a precaution.
It's a bit of a mystery.
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