I hate cleaning, but I love things to be clean

I'm not a great housekeeper. It's not like I don't have time; I just don't have the energy. I know people who are just tireless. They work all day, pick up and transport kids everywhere, volunteer on countless committees, do the church thing, party with friends and attend cultural and sporting events, and still cook, clean, pay bills, blah, blah, blah. I work all day. Whew.

So if I get behind in the housecleaning, I REALLY get behind in the housecleaning. Things get a little dusty or cluttered and I give up. I get so overwhelmed with all that needs doing, that I don't do anything, so it gets worse and worse. And then I start to feel guilty and miserable and ashamed. My failure stares me in the face from every direction. (Does that phrase make sense? If something is staring in my face, it's not from every direction is it? It's probably right in front of me. How about, "My failure shouts at me from every direction." That makes more sense.)

And finally, I can't take it anymore, and the cleaning begins. It's therapeutic really. There is so much in life that I have no control over, but I can get the dust off the chachkies in this bookcase.

So on Thursday I spent the evening cleaning a 5' x 10' space in the living room that houses the entertainment center, a little impromptu desk for the &$$#%* Mac computer and the wall clock. I cleaned everything on every shelf. Did some rearranging. Threw some stuff away. It felt great. It looks so good. Dust free bobbleheads!

Friday was a hard day. There were issues. So I cleaned the hearth and the mantel (and everything that lives there). This time I had an audience. We were actually talking through some stuff (and watching t.v.) while I was cleaning and making dinner all at the same time.

"Is this making you feel better?" Mike asks, while I've got all the items off the mantel and lined up around me on the floor.

"Yes," I said.

"OK," was his response. I think he was a little wary because I happened to be holding the shotgun at the time. It's just a prop, but I think it looks good up there.

I did the full on clean, too. Dusted everything. All the glass got run through a vinegar rinse, and I scrubbed down the tile. I even re-glued the little jewelly things that had popped off the planter boxes.

Then I sat back and felt better. A LOT better. It's weird how tidiness soothes me. Even today, I can just sit here on the couch and look at the front of the room and the fireplace, and I feel good. Not that I did that ALL day. I actually cleaned the bathroom today. That room was disgusting.

I don't know why I just can't keep the place clean all the time. Why do I put myself through this? Now I'm ready to do some laundry. Maybe tomorrow I'll get the kitchen clean (ish) ...