You know what it feels like when you've swept a room?
You start with the big sweep, the wide swaths across the room.
And then you make another pass, gathering up more debris as you go.
And then again, down to the dust.
And then again, back and forth, back and forth into the dustpan.
Again, left, again, right.
Some into the cracks of the concrete on the floor.
Some into the pan.
Big broom down now, on hands and knees with a small whisk.
Again, again, again, again.
Until you have it all.
And then you look at the dustpan with satisfaction, lift the lid of the trashcan, drop the contents down into the darkness.
But some of the dust flies up and makes you cough.
That's what the final editing process for the book felt like last night--three years, ending with dust and a little cough.
I always sleep well in a clean house.