January 12, 2007
I am so happy today is finally Friday! That means the weekend is rapidly approaching and my big plans to declutter and clean and organize my home office are drawing near.
See, this is just the sort of big-city, glamorous, sexy action you get from your Crazy Aunt Cat Lady on the weekends. Maybe later I'll tell you all about other exciting things such as vacuuming or making toast.
But I really am looking forward to attacking the home office and finally organizing eleventy-seven billion pieces of paper and junk into clear plastic bins and file sorters. Before I went on my no-shopping thing I bought a label maker so I can really get my freak on with some mad organizing! Boy I make the single life look so appealing. Nothing says excitement like a label maker.
I am not usually frenetically overjoyed about cleaning and organizing (unless it's yarn, I loooove to re-organize my stash). It's one of those things that will sneak up on me, kind of like a rash. All the sudden I'll have an overwhelming need to clean and organize stuff.
Even under ideal circumstances I am not the tidiest person you'll ever meet. That's not to say I'm a complete slob, I like the dishes to be clean and the bathroom to be serviceable but aside from that I'm not what you'd call a neat freak. Not by any stretch of the imagination. My theory is that our time on earth is limited and while it may be fulfilling for some people to scrub the sink or dust the bookshelves, I prefer to use my free time to be productive in the fields of chitchatting, carrying on and shopping.
Except when I get slightly crazy. Clean-crazy. And now since there is no shopping, the clean-crazy has intensified!
There is no telling when the clean-crazy mood will strike. It isn't related to PMS or the cycles of the moon or even the weather. It must be psychological. Or perhaps... supernatural. But one day, for no reason whatsoever, I will wake up and feel the urge to vaccuum the toaster.
This time it hit me on a Wednesday night. I began eyeing the dodgy area around the cat food bowls and what started as a simple little task became an entire kitchen scrub-down. Like a madwoman, I washed and polished and swept and scrubbed and tidied for hours. Last Sunday I did laundry and cleaned my closet and dusted my shoes and vacuumed the bedroom floor and tried to suction the loose fur off my cats with the brush attachment (unsuccessfully). Then, seeing as it was only one p.m., I decided to tackle my Jeep.
My Jeep, the sludge magnet.
It is difficult to maintain even the most cursory illusion of cleanliness in the Jeep. But during winter, when it spits rain often enough to muddy the protective layer of dust, it is almost impossible to keep the interior clean enough for human transportation (not to mention the exterior. The word "pigsty" comes to mind.)
Armed with a bucket and a sponge, I washed and polished the outside, and then I cleaned every interior surface with Windex and those little Armor-all car wipe thingies. (Note to self: never armor-all the steering wheel. It gets too slick to hold onto and could cause an over-cleaning-related accident!)
Next, I dragged my beloved Dyson into the driveway and showed my true crazy self to all the neighbors as I proceeded to vacuum the interior for about an hour. AN HOUR. I spent an hour of my weekend cleaning the floor of my car ... for the love of fat Elvis will somebody please call a doctor? Anyway, I was so pleased with my little personal car wash that I zipped the windows out and took my temporarily clean Jeep for a spin just to appreciate the dust-free interior. (Of course on Sunday it was about eighty degrees. Today it is something like minus-eleventy. Our weather has gone haywire in Los Angeles.)
The evening was rounded out by a thorough cleaning of my bathroom and a long hot shower, thirty five minutes of soapy bliss. I realize that I could solve world peace in the time I spend showering during my lifespan, but what with cleanliness being so close to Godliness and all... I have to do what I can. And what I can do is shower.
What makes my clean-crazy moods so outstanding is that they are completely unprovoked, unpredictable and out of character. When I was in junior high, my dad used to take pictures of my bedroom at the height of messiness and threaten to show said pictures to all my friends at school. It was an effort to shame me into tidiness, which failed miserably. I was perfectly happy with a messy room.
As an adult with more rooms available to mess up, I try to balance my natural urge to pile, toss and horde. I keep my place tidy enough so the cats don't get lost and clean enough so that my friends aren't offended when they visit. I do this by putting everything that doesn't belong somewhere into the office and shutting the door. My house stays tidy because all the junk is hiding in the home office.
So the clean-crazy mood will take over now and then and I become possessed, a woman on a mission, a lemon-fresh fanatic with a sick attachment to the vacuum. During these phases, you better get out of my way unless you're wearing plastic gloves and carrying a mop. And now the piggy little home office is on my radar screen, and I plan to kick it's butt from here to Cleendom Come. HAHAHAHA. Boy that is just the sort of witty joke you would expect from a glamorous, single, big-city gal who spends her weekends vacuuming the keyboard and lint brushing the cats. I DO NOT BELIEVE SEXY IS A STRONG ENOUGH WORD TO DESCRIBE ME.
This cat is not clutter.
Posted by laurie at January 12, 2007 9:27 AM