2001-04-16 - 11:59 p.m.

Cleanup Time

As I've mentioned before, I have this problem with things being clean and orderly. That is to say, I like them being clean and orderly, but I don't like to be the one DOING the cleaning.

This seems to be a no-brainer, right? Everyone likes things to be clean, but nobody likes to do the cleaning. However, I seem to have a special problem with both of them.

I associate dirt and disorder with psychological badness. For example the family house became grimier and grimier as my mother became more and more of a hermit. And usually if I am not feeling so good, that will be reflected in how my own place looks.

At the same time, having to clean things really bothers me. Not in the usual way one feels toward unpleasant but necessary tasks, but in a deeper way. When I was young I somehow associated cleaning things with punishment, so now when I tackle a major cleaning task I feel like I am punishing myself. Cleaning up other people's messes makes me even more annoyed.

I don't think I always felt this way, but I think the big cleanup job that I did at my parents' place some years ago really rubbed me the wrong way. It was dreadful, like mucking out the Barn From Hell.

However, sometimes I'll just get fed up and go on a cleaning binge, and that's what happened today. I picked up all the clutter in the computer room, the bedroom and the living room and gave the place a vacuuming. I vacuum about once a season and I really should do it more often and more thoroughly.

The trouble is that the way things stand now, I am the logical person to do the cleaning around here. Lily is far too busy to do much of any of it, and besides, she does the cooking.

A couple nights ago it was late and we both needed some dinner. We both were tired and what we usually do in cases like that is cook a frozen pizza, but Lily roused herself and, using a recipe she got off the web, cooked a Shepherd's Pie using some stuff that was lying around the house. It tasted great and was something that I probably couldn't have whipped up in a million years.

So, logically, I'm the one who should be assigned to do the cleaning. I just wish it didn't irritate me so much.

Maybe it's some sort of test I have to pass. Maybe I need to break the rebellious spirit inside of me that is expecting someone else to do the picking up. I remember reading that there is some sort of Zen to doing everyday tasks, an art to letting ones body flow with the natural rhythms. Maybe my job is to find that.

Or maybe my job is just to shut up and start cleaning.