Before first light was when she meant to leave, and working through the night she made sure to have everything she needed with her. When that was done, she double checked that all other items were stuffed into bags or packed inside boxes or sorted into their respective containers. It mattered to her that things maintain their places: on shelves, by couches, under cabinets, in canisters, outside on the terrace, underneath the eaves up at the attic, even stacked along the small shelves that she’d tucked between the twin beds of the guest room or strung across the top of the door-frame inside her closet. She believed it important for one to have whatever they needed near at hand while at the same time not letting life be scattered all over toward disorder.
It wouldn’t do to seek something and not find it untill after it was too late to be of any use. Or worse, redundant instead of necessary.
She was leaving and had no plan for or intention of return. But when they found the place, she wanted whomever it was to know that she had made arrangements on their behalf and had been on top of things to ensure their life, too, could be sufficiently organized.
(Just went to town and had some prepositional fun with that, I had … )