Why yes, I do understand the contradictory title above, and raise a glass to those of you who realized why I made it that way. If you don’t get why, no harm no foul, I didn’t understand it until recently and that’s why I decided to make this blog post.
How many clean freaks do I have out there? Those of you who can’t handle shoes laying around, a toy not in a box, crumbs on the counter, a blanket folded wrong? Yeah, me too.
I love Chance and June to death, but when I see his shoes under the coffee table instead of beside the door, or her toys strewn around the floor with stuffing coming out of them, something in me just switches. The problem with that switch is that it isn’t a good one. It is like a green scary cleaning lady who huffs as she bends over to move the shoes, or rolls her eyes at her happy dog as she squats to pick up stuffing yet again.
I assume some of you have that same switch? A child left the milk out, or the husband threw his clothes on the floor yet again. Your roommate smudged up the mirror, while the dog tracked in mud all over your spotless floors. Sound familiar?
I thought so.
So here I am to give you the low down on why being clean is actually dirty. (Are you picking up on the title yet?)
Personally, when I found myself cleaning all the time, I found that Chance and I fought a decent amount of the time and that my bitterness towards him multiplied every time he didn’t put the pants in his drawer or his glass in the sink. Yes, you all know what I am talking about. That little voice in your head that goes: “Are you ACTUALLY kidding me?!” Or says something along the lines of, “I did the dishes yesterday morning, and three times last night. Once this morning and once this afternoon, and he can’t even put his dish in the sink? I am just going to stop doing dishes, see how he likes drinking water out of a tupperware container.”
Side note: I read that to him and he goes “I do dishes SOMETIMES, you make it sounds like I never do them.” So yes, he does dishes..once a week...
So, one night, after leaving the house in a huff and going to the gym to burn off some steam over yet another argument about who sweeps the floor that night, I realized that I was being an idiot. A literal idiot. I am causing the stupidest fights in the world because I can’t look past the house being spotless and see the two people I love the most.
Let me break the above sentence down a little bit. I am missing valuable time with Chance and June because I am either yelling or complaining about the house being messy, or on my hands and knees cleaning it. It is so detrimental to my relationships to prioratize a pair of shoes over time spent talking to and loving two of my favorites.
So if there is any advise that this twenty one year old soul can give, it is to put down the gosh dang mop and sit down with your family. Go out to dinner with your roommate, take your dog for a walk, bake cookies with your child and for Pete’s sake, let the mess be the mess it is. Don’t throw away these precious memories for fleeting joy over a floor shine.
I am not telling you to live in a pig pen, please don’t do that. I am just saying that instead of always feeling the need to clean, work on putting aside time at the begining or end of each day to pick up around the house, or make it a family affair to do dishes and sweep after dinner before the toys come out. Once a week set aside a deep cleaning day, my day is Friday, and Chance knows that when he wakes up Saturday, the house is imaculent.
Maybe this isn’t your style and hey, that’s totally fine. Personally though, I would rather enjoy myself then stress out over spilt milk.
Until next time my dear friends