Friday, July 12, 2013

Fair Trade

I know enough about obsessions to know that when obsessive people get over one, they often replace it with another. It's not usually something that is in their control. For example, someone with OCD can't say, "I don't want to obsess about being clean anymore, so I'm going to obsess about punctuation instead," but they do trade them out over time.

Well, I'm obsessive. There is no way around it. I am obsessing about babies and pregnancy and why other people get what I want. I check Facebook for pictures of friends baby bumps just to get angry at them. I mean, the anger is not my intent, but that's what happens every time. 

Basically, I'm certifiably nucking futs. 

Anyway, I felt like I wouldn't be able to get through the day by just breathing through it. It was like there wasn't enough air to survive another month. My brain came up with it's own way of handling it, and it's worked out really well for several reasons.

I have always been a clean-ish person, but not fanatical. I can't stand mess, but I don't mind things being out of place. I hate dishes in the sink, but the solution is often to just stay away from the sink. Problem solved.

The last few days? Not so much. My house is spotless. I sit at work and think about things that need to be cleaned at home. I bought a bare floor vacuum. I'm excited to go to the store and get a Swiffer and a new mop. The floors have never been this clean. The counters are scrubbed. Tonight, I will clean out the fridge. I vacuumed the stairs last night. Oh, and the rest of the house.


Dishes? Done. Floor? Cleaned. Except I didn't have a mop, so I used a rag. My husband is in neatfreak heaven. Rather than sitting on the couch and let negative thoughts creep in, I make sure there ain't shit creeping through my house. I know that I'm redirecting the fact that I feel like I don't have control onto a situation that I can control, but, uh, okay. I really like it when my house is clean. I am enjoying having the motivation to do it. It's exercise that actually feels productive. The dogs are kind of confused as to why mom is scrubbing without dad nagging her to do it, but they'll figure it out. 

Also, the little dog chased the vacuum around the floor last night and it was hella funny. 

So, I traded up. I traded lack of control for total control and shiny new appliances for dusting and mopping and becoming Suzy homemaker. The only parts I haven't gotten to yet are the bathrooms. I really don't think that needs elaboration. Bathrooms are gross, and my husband doesn't mind cleaning them. Boom. 

I'm obsessive, not an idiot.

As always, it's hip to be square (and off the deep end!), kids. 

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