The Truth Hurts

Yep. I am all alone in my quest for a tidy house. I just need a game plan now. WHY OH WHY.

Whenever I think of cleaning I want to just throw up my hands and give up. It is a horrible depressing feeling. And it is even worse that somethign so stupid as maintaining a tidy house is enough to make a grown woman (me) feel this way.

Ugh. How lonely.

There is nowhere I can look that is tidy. Or clutterfree. (Or particularily clean for that matter). I truely am a suckidy suck of a housekeeper.

Then after wanting to jump out a window to avoid tis lonely task I get filled with rage. Absolute black rage. And I want to break things and though stupid shit out... A caseless cd that floated from the top of the computer tower to the printer adn now has been on the floor all day. Am I the only one who has seen it? If now is the cd some "test" of is 'she going to pick it up' to be rubbed in my face later? 'look how long THAT has been there!'

Then I shake my head and tell myself that that is paranoia talking. And obviously feeling like that doesnt help anything.

Know what also doesnt help? Thinking about cleaning that pile of papers and shoes and rug behind the chair that I am looking at. And so I will go and clean it but before I have finished the depressed sadness is back and I think about the awesomeness that is me crouched behind the rocking chair on a Friday night while home alone with Donavan who is in bed. Then I can think about how this is definatly not what I was expecting ever. A week before 24th birthday, on GOOD Friday all alone cleaning up a pile of crap (not literally thank goodness or I would be running for a razor blade, i swear to god!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).

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Not a cry for help or anything, put away your crisis helpline books. Just a friendly example of how something so stupid as cleaning my livingroom can give calm and collected me an anxiety attack.

Id best go do something horrifyingly boring like dishes with no partner to dry them with me and try to calm the heck down.