Now that I’m recovering from pneumonia and realizing Thanksgiving is just around the corner, I find myself nesting.

The gloomy weather makes it easy to stay indoors, cleaning forgotten corners, sorting through that overstuffed drawer, and uncovering what’s hidden beneath and behind. How do things get so dusty?

As much as I love my house, moments like this make me curse the beveled molding and the way the walls jut out at odd angles—so charming, yet excellent at hoarding crumbs.

In the quiet of this unhurried day, I find the cleaning strangely calming. Maybe it’s a form of mindfulness—being completely absorbed in the task at hand.

But what will we have for dinner? Who knows.