"Count the years, you always knew it"

In the past couple days, I've been thinking a lot about cleaning and clearing, on both the metaphorical and actual levels.

I am pretty much only capable of seeing our house in terms of the things I haven't done yet. The list ranges from the infinitesimal (I haven't moved the fridge to sweep behind it) to the daunting (I really should figure out how to successfully wash the porch) to the obvious (two days of dishes and a load of laundry to hang up.) And I, of course, expect every person who sets foot in my house to judge me for the fact that I am, in fact, losing the battle with the pet hair. But I've been depressed and stressed of late, and when I don't have the energy, cleaning makes me want to cry. When I do have the energy, I want to be doing other things.

None of this is to say that Light doesn't help, because he does. I have only had to change the cat litter a handful of times since we moved out here, and I almost never have to take the garbage out. He helps, but he doesn't _see_ the house the same way I see it. If nothing's gaining sentience and threatening the pets, he's pretty comfortable with whatever level of disorder I'd like to tolerate.

And, on the one hand, I'm afraid that if I relax, if I stop beating myself up about the fact that I'm not sweeping every twenty minutes, something horrible will happen, I'll become slatternly and no one will ever come over to my house again, and I'll start using words like slatternly all the time. On the other hand, I don't think I want to become someone who forgoes other experiences in order to be able to say my house is spotless.

My list of home improvements is endless and almost none of it ever gets accomplished, in part because I'm waiting for Light to do it, and it's not something that comes naturally to him, and if I really want it done, I'm either going to have to do it myself, be the motivating force for him doing it, or have someone from the outside come in and do it. (At this point, I would totally pay someone to hang the curtain rods).

And I keep making jokes about an eventual remodel, but maybe I should just suck it up, and instead of the grand scale remodel of the kitchen that I want, I should just save pennies until I can afford to rewire/replumb enough to put a dish washer somewhere and all the rest (the extra outlets, and the extra cabinets and the new backsplash) can be a gift to myself years from now.

I want to be house-proud again. I want to feel like I'm investing energy into something that sustains me, that I make it better and that when people come over it's a welcoming place that doesn't leave them with the desire to just keep washing their hands. And I guess I need to find some way to have enough energy to do that.

Also, I totally want a rocking chair. And another tattoo.

"Count the years, you always knew it"

In the past couple days, I've been thinking a lot about cleaning and clearing, on both the metaphorical and actual levels.

I am pretty much only capable of seeing our house in terms of the things I haven't done yet. The list ranges from the infinitesimal (I haven't moved the fridge to sweep behind it) to the daunting (I really should figure out how to successfully wash the porch) to the obvious (two days of dishes and a load of laundry to hang up.) And I, of course, expect every person who sets foot in my house to judge me for the fact that I am, in fact, losing the battle with the pet hair. But I've been depressed and stressed of late, and when I don't have the energy, cleaning makes me want to cry. When I do have the energy, I want to be doing other things.

None of this is to say that Light doesn't help, because he does. I have only had to change the cat litter a handful of times since we moved out here, and I almost never have to take the garbage out. He helps, but he doesn't _see_ the house the same way I see it. If nothing's gaining sentience and threatening the pets, he's pretty comfortable with whatever level of disorder I'd like to tolerate.

And, on the one hand, I'm afraid that if I relax, if I stop beating myself up about the fact that I'm not sweeping every twenty minutes, something horrible will happen, I'll become slatternly and no one will ever come over to my house again, and I'll start using words like slatternly all the time. On the other hand, I don't think I want to become someone who forgoes other experiences in order to be able to say my house is spotless.

My list of home improvements is endless and almost none of it ever gets accomplished, in part because I'm waiting for Light to do it, and it's not something that comes naturally to him, and if I really want it done, I'm either going to have to do it myself, be the motivating force for him doing it, or have someone from the outside come in and do it. (At this point, I would totally pay someone to hang the curtain rods).

And I keep making jokes about an eventual remodel, but maybe I should just suck it up, and instead of the grand scale remodel of the kitchen that I want, I should just save pennies until I can afford to rewire/replumb enough to put a dish washer somewhere and all the rest (the extra outlets, and the extra cabinets and the new backsplash) can be a gift to myself years from now.

I want to be house-proud again. I want to feel like I'm investing energy into something that sustains me, that I make it better and that when people come over it's a welcoming place that doesn't leave them with the desire to just keep washing their hands. And I guess I need to find some way to have enough energy to do that.

Also, I totally want a rocking chair. And another tattoo.