Paul is coming home tomorrow at 5, which is why I wanted to clean the house. And by clean the house I really mean that I just want to pick up all the shoes and clean off the dining table and maybe do the dishes - nothing hard. But last night after I ate my frozen burrito and chips with salsa I just didn't want to. So, I watched Army Wives and then Mad Men on the PVR and went to bed. I keep reading advice on "how to keep your house from getting so trashed you want to burn it all" and they all say to spend 5-15 minutes everyday just picking up the clutter, throwing away the junk mail and maybe doing a few dishes. And when I do these things I'm still amazed at how big of a difference I can make in such a short time but usually I just can't make myself do it. I look at that plate and glass on the table, or that pile of junk mail, or the two pairs of shoes under the table and something inside me just goes, "Uhg, I can't." And I don't. I walk away, and then I'm embarrassed that someone might see that I live in clutterdom and can't manage to take my laundry detergent to the basement...you know, since I'm going down there anyway?
Tonight I have rehearsal again, so when I get home tonight at 9 or later I'll have to make that final decision, "do I pick everything up, or let Paul come home after 4 months to a messy house." I guess if it was clean it might give off the impression that I've kept it that way all summer, which would be a lie. But I do feel a juvenile sense of accomplishment when the house is tidy, almost how I feel when something grows in the yard like, "oh, look, I made a flower!" Ridiculous-I know. However, right now I have made lots of flowers and if I just cleaned up the shoes, vacuumed the floor and cleared off the table I could put a bunch in a vase and feel like I live like a normal person - or at least like the kind of person who cleans their house and has cut flowers.
*or, How In the Amount of Time it Took For Me to Write This I Could Have Finished Everything I'm Dreading.