Lord of The Mess

 

Kids. No kids.

Kids. No kids.

So I can’t be the Clean Police ALL MUTHAFUCKIN’ weekend.  Nothing else would come out of my mouth except demands and orders.  So I have to let some things go. That’s the great thing about living in a tiny space; this mess took eight minutes to clean up.  And a dishwasher does my dishes.  I just wish I didn’t have to worry about it or say anything in order for it to get done. And I act like I’m not gonna touch it but it doesn’t bother anyone else as much as it bothers me and I can’t let it sit there.  So I still end up cleaning like an idiot after the kids go home so I can sit in a peaceful, quiet, comfortable, free of chaos, clean environment.

It’s in my nature to make order from chaos. I’m a Virgo. I have OCD. Combine the two, it’s a curse and a blessing what can I say?  So I let it go, but I really don’t. My brain never shuts off. “Oh my god you’re getting crumbs all over everything! Oh my God pick up your socks for the hundredth millionth time! Oh my god that doesn’t go there! I can’t even sit on the couch because of all your shit all over it!”  This is the dialogue in my head.  It’s never really off.  Just my face is off.  But it probably isn’t either.

 

I get the feeling THIS is how I look on the couch.

I get the feeling THIS is how I look on the couch.

They are doing so good and being patient is a virtue.  Which I don’t have.  I don’t want to ‘nag’ Michael either.  There is a balance.  They are cleaning ten times more than they were.  I need to recognize that and praise them and move on, otherwise I’ll feel like an Ogre.  I also need to own that I am a neat freak and move on.

I make everything so black and white too.  Yes, I think they should all clean up after themselves.  So I don’t.  So nothing gets done, then I’m mad.  Then I’m mad so long I lose my shit.

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There is moderation to everything.  I am learning the mucky, grey area of it.  There is probably a ‘gentle’ way to do this.  I do not know of this ‘gentleness’ however.  I am learning.  To me it is common sense to clean yer shit up.  But this is coming from a woman, who cleaned her room and made her bed when she was a two year old child.  My mother thought ALL children were like this which probably attributed to her having three more.  Which after that I’m assuming, she realized I was an anomaly.  (I always knew I was left on the doorstep.)

So I shut up around Sunday mid morning because I will breathe fire if I open my mouth.  It’s not fair to them, we are having a good day, I don’t want to be an Ogre, so I drop it.  Maybe this week I will do that gentle thing and have a ‘talk’ thingy.  I will own up to my heightened level of what CLEAN means and what efforts are truly being made in this small apartment living arrangement by everyone around me and find that middle ground on a map somewhere and pitch a tent.  But throw the GODAMNED RING ALREADY SMEAGOL!!

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