Even though life isn’t tidy, on the whole, i still want it to be. I strive for it to be tidy, clean, and clear of …. ew-ness. Sometimes i win, sometimes i don’t, and sometimes it’s a tie. Today however, as i found the strength i’d been lacking when one recovers from an appendectomy, i won in a big way. I got up this evening and decided that the bathroom/kitchen buildup was not good for me anymore, and set about cleaning.
hmmmmm back up. i never decide to clean. I do, however, decide to just pick up that one thing and put it back. That leads to another thing…and another… until the counter is clear. At that point, i can’t just stare at a bare counter that has fuzz/goo/gunk/funk (and that toothpick that is always hiding behind the stuff) and not wipe it off! so out comes the spray, the cloth, and i just pick one spot at a time. the end result is the same, true, but i have to trick myself. Otherwise, it’s just too overwhelming. Also, i can’t just do one room at a time. when putting things away, i usually go up and down the stairs so while i’m up the stairs, i might as well work on that bathroom. and when i go back downstairs returning something else to it’s spot, i work in the kitchen for a bit. did i mention i get bored easily? and distracted? and like bright, shiny objects??? Well, this is how i get things done at the same time. I trick myself.
and as i’m tricking myself into getting what i want by doing the mundane, i allowed something in. I allowed myself to zen out, and just clean. no music to distract me. no talking on the phone….after a bit. i hung up and just cleaned. and, i noticed me noticing me. This is what i saw:
me, cleaning the tile in the bathroom over the bathtub: “you know, this caked on, nastiness that has sat here for about 5 years….. how did i let it get this bad????”
me, grabbing yet another wipe with bleach and some other mystical property: “Well, retard, you have been tricking yourself into thinking this is a fight with your hubby. it is a tug-o-war about who will break down and clean this particular spot.”
me, realizing i’m having a conversation with myself, but see a lesson coming: “no! i can’t be that petty! really? really, i’ve neglected this particular corner, where the economy size shampoo and manly man body wash sit, just to make a point?”
I had, in fact, tricked myself into letting my pettiness make that one corner into ew-ness. I thought that if i waited for him to get a clue, or get tired of it like i had, then he would just clean it (to my satisfaction, nonetheless…) and i could bob my head in “there now, that’s more like it” arrogance. all i did, though, is close the curtain more. odd, that.