The flap of a butterfly's wing

To be honest, it wasn't the flap of a butterfly's wing at all. Rather, it was the wings of light moths crumbling to dust. But they did a lot.

Juli 2021
Quicktranslation with DeepL

I claim to write about serious and well-researched topics in this column. Today it may be different for once. Today is about an insignificance for the world, but a wonderful sense of achievement for me. True to my motto #enjoythelittlethings.

The only thing I wanted to do was replace the light bulbs on top of my reference book shelf. So I got out the ladder, climbed up, got the new bulbs ready, stacked the books to clear the way to the lamp - and stop! A scene of horror! My otherwise highly esteemed cleaning lady must have avoided exactly this over the years, a careful look behind the books. I took a deep breath, went down the ladder again, armed with the hoover, went back up and vacuumed out the lamps first. An inch-thick layer of moth dust had accumulated in them. The beating of the wings of countless dead animals. That's how it all began.

Three days later I had a new flat. All the bookshelves cleared, cleaned, the reference books sorted again by subject as they had been at some point and the belles lettres alphabetically, discarded, put away. The wardrobes and all the other cupboards cleaned, sorted, everything discarded, put away. And a lot more. Some things have been spruced up, others moved around, a breath of fresh air. It's almost like living in a new home!

As is so often the case. Long postponed, suddenly the flap of a butterfly's wing is enough and everything starts to move. Done!