The urge to reclaim your home from the demons of dirt and grime can strike at any time. Usually when this feeling comes upon me I listen to some relaxing music and breath deeply till the feeling passes. This time however I couldn’t avoid it any longer. Now I know what you are thinking, “There is no way your house is messy, you are too OCD.” Well, there you are very wrong. I am a middle-aged man who has lived by himself most of his adult life. I am quite capable of ignoring the chaos in my home till there is a threat of other people seeing it. My OCD tendencies express themselves in organizing files and projects; office work or public life. Home life tends to be shaped more by my artistic side (or at least that is the excuse I am sticking to).
Today’s project for this endeavor was the kitchen. I have not been embracing my inner Martha Stewart lately so no cooking = ignored kitchen. The worst thing was the refrigerator. I was thinking about adding a picture of it to this post, but I decided that if I ever tried to enter some sort of domestic god competition (it could happen) it would come back to haunt me faster than a politician’s stoned-frat-boy photo. I found some scary things hiding in the back and down in the crisper. I probably should have worn HAZMAT gear, but if I can survive eating falafel from a street-vendor in Jerusalem I can survive almost anything.
I really miss the days when I could afford to drop off all my laundry for bundle service and pay someone to do cleaning projects like this. I REALLY hate domestic chores. I don’t mind it as much when I have someone to keep me company. However, the dog was too busy sleeping in the bedroom and the cats just sat in the kitchen doorway staring at me like she thought I might be loosing my mind. I guess since they are my child substitutes they were just doing what they would have done if they were the real thing.
Well, I guess I will have to decide what project to tackle next in this cleaning endeavor…maybe sorting out old clothing…or probably trying to electrocute myself changing out a ceiling fan. If you don’t hear from me again my family probably found me barbecued at the bottom of a ladder in my living room.