Cleaning Up

I'm a little bit of a neat freak. Although you wouldn't always know it to look at my house, because I also don't like cleaning very much. Kind of an oxymoron. Place an object in a room where it doesn't belong, and chances are my family and I will maneuver around it long enough until said object just blends in with it's surroundings, like it is supposed to be there. But eventually my OCD kicks in and I turn into the ultimate binge cleaning machine. Everything must have a place, and I become determined to find or make such a spot for as many mislaid items as I can. 

This past weekend I decided to buy myself a few new shirts, which lead to emptying out my closet. Which lead to emptying out the armoir. Every single shirt, sweater and pair of pants I own ended up on the bed, scrutinized for their wearability during the upcoming year. After trying them all on, determining which ones I haven't worn in the past year and therefore which ones I most likely will not wear in the next year, I put the winners back in their spot in the closet or armoir, and the losers got packed into a garbage bag. Their exact future is yet to be determined, but it will involve being donated in some manner. When I was in high school, my mother had a shirt that I thought was god-awful ugly. One day, I found a photo of her and 2-year-old me, and she was wearing that same shirt, making it 15 years old! (Needless to say, I was mortified that she would still be wearing the same clothing she wore 15 years ago.) I fear that I'm getting close to that point with my own closet. I won't lie, it felt good to replace the old with the new. 

Another factor that kicks up my motivation to clean is having guests. I love the announced surprise - "Hey, what are you doing? I'll be over in half an hour." This means I have at least 20 minutes to binge clean as much as possible. Sweep the floors, wipe down the counters, throw the toys in a closet, straighten up the shoes. Yep, I've mastered the technique of immediate cleaning. I got this kind of call recently, when a couple of college friends were passing through town. I was extremely happy to hear from them, and immediately went to work straightening up. I haven't seen one of these friends in a year or two, and the other I hadn't seen in probably 5 years. Think they cared about the state of my living room? Probably not. Yet I clean. I feel a sense of accomplishment and love looking at a neat house, although I've come to accept that my living quarters will never be "white glove" perfect. Far from it! But that's ok.

These walls that surround us have seen a fair share of disagreements and fights. One wall has a patched up spot where I kicked it in after a particularly heated fight. The paint is peeling off many of the bedroom doors and door frames, and with the correct momentum, one can practically pull paint off the entire length of the door in one strip. The ceiling paint in both bathrooms is split and cracking due to the day after day moisture from 5 people bathing multiple times over the course of a week. The couch feels to me like it sucks you in when you sit on it, and it's got a few pen marks and dark spots where something was spilled then cleaned up. The mirrors are covered in fingerprints and smudges. The carpeting on the stairs is old, matted and stained. There is almost always a laundry basket or two hanging around the living room that contains folded clothes, waiting to be put away. The hardwood floors are scuffed and have a few stains in the most traveled areas. The should-be white linoleum floor in the kitchen is scratched, and is more like a dingy ivory color. I've managed to control the large amounts of clutter to occupy only a few select areas including the hutch by the front door, the file cabinet and hutch in the dining room, and my bedroom dresser. When the clutter in these areas hits maximum coverage, I click into binge cleaning mode and relocate as many of the objects to their proper room as possible. 

These walls that surround us have also seen many days and nights filled with laughter. Homemade works of art are proudly displayed, hung on the wall prominently for all to admire. The cracked paint in the bathrooms means that my kids are bathed and the toothpaste on the sink means they've brushed their teeth. The couch has been jumped on with excitement while we play video games and it's held all 5 of us together while we watch our weekly TV show or a movie. The mirror on the front closet door has spots on it from where it's been struck with Nerf suction cup darts, as the kids try to outshoot one another. The carpeting on the first two or three stairs is matted, in part from serving as our sitting place to put on or take off shoes. Folded clothes means clean clothes, and the fact that they are waiting to be put away means there are more clothes in the closet that can be worn. The hardwood floors are well traveled, and on good days with clean socks the kids can get a running start from the dining room, then slide from one side of the living room to the other. Dirt is tracked through the kitchen as the kids go running in and out, showing me the mudpies they've made or trying to escape the Nerf bullets of their siblings. I've tracked my own dirt into the kitchen after spending hours in the garden or taking out the trash. Clutter means we have more than we need and the kids can never run out of things to play with. 

My house, clean or not as it may be, has been home to 8 people, 1 cat, 2 dogs, and numerous fish. If these walls could talk, I like to think the majority of the tales would be happy ones, echoing the laughter that we have shared in each room over the years. Cleaning up feels good, keeps me calm and makes me happy. And it reminds me how fortunate we are and how much we truly have. For that, I am grateful.