Today, The Daily Post asks:
Tell us about something you know you should do . . . but don’t.
I am absolutely horrible about cleaning up after myself. It’s not so much that I don’t care – I want my home to be neat and organized, really I do! It’s that … Well,
I don’t know. There are several layers to it.
Part of the problem is that cleaning is a task that never ends. Sure, the bathroom might be sparkling, the dust bunnies vanquished, the laundry and dishes all clean and put away, every single item in its place NOW … but in a minute, it will be imperfect once again. Someone will use the toilet or take a shower or eat something. The clothes you’re wearing are dirty. The dust bunnies started respawning before you even finished vanquishing them. You’re going to use something, I just know it! and … now that item is out of place again. There’s the satisfaction of completing a task for about a moment, and then it is once again incomplete.
I’m just not willing to be constantly vigilant, ever doing battle with my own house. I’m a bit too preoccupied with homework and relationships and trying to be places on time to care about where I take off my slippers or the fact that there are dishes in the sink. When I see the clutter I know I should clean it, but there’s usually something else I’d rather do (such as blog about it!). Cleaning just isn’t rewarding enough for me.
For example, playing with my rats is infinitely more rewarding than locking the poor dears in their carrier and sticking my upper body in their stinky cage to clean it … just to find, a minute later, that they’ve pooped outside the litter box again. And in their minds, all I’ve done is take away their scent marking and filled their home with alien smells that they just have to cover up again. They’d much rather get to climb on me, groom me, explore, show off their intelligence, and eat tasty things.
I’m not sure if this is a legitimate problem or just an excuse, but I also feel like I don’t have a home for all my things. Organization relies on each object having a place where it belongs. Okay, so clothes go in the hamper or the drawer. Dishes go in the cabinet. Used tissues go in the garbage. Etc.
But what about the schoolbooks I use every day? This random thing I got in the mail that I have to do something about but don’t feel like dealing with right now? Coupons? the hard copy of the dragon I just drew? my backpack, laptop case, canvas shopping bags, etc? moisturizer … I think you get the idea. Sometimes I’m too lazy to put something back in its home after using it, but other times I don’t have a home to put things in! I need to give each item a place and return it to that place when I’m done using it.
But sometimes, my anxiety gets in the way. I want to leave this thing out so I’ll see it and know where it is. If I put something away, I might forget that it exists, or not be able to find it again, or it might be eaten by underwear gnomes. If it’s out, I know I have it; I can access it fairly easily.
Sound crazy? It’s partially based on experience: often I’ll clean up and later, when I’m trying to find something, I’ll remember where it was before I cleaned – but not where I actually put it!
And finally, it’s really hard to get rid of stuff. Papers take over the room because I don’t know if I’ll need them again for some reason. A lot of garbage just never gets thrown away. Stuffed animals are too cute to get rid of. This thing most people would recycle makes a great rat toy! My goal is to have entire walls covered in books, so clearly I must keep every book I own even if I never read it and don’t currently have the shelf space. I’ll need these boxes the next time I move. These clothes/shoes/other items are still useable, it would be a waste to just throw them away. I’ll donate them (but do I ever?) or sell them (in my dreams, perhaps, but not reality).
The worst is when something I don’t use, want, or need anymore has “sentimental value.” I might have forgotten I had it, but when I see it again it’s the most precious thing ever. I’m overcome with guilt at even thinking of getting rid of it. How could I? I might not have a place for it, looking at it might be painful, I will probably never use it again, but on some level it’s a part of me. A physical reminder of my past. Perhaps a gift from someone I care about – it would be betraying them to get rid of it!
Especially with the move back to my mom’s house, it’s so much easier to just let the clutter continue to sit there than to get rid of it. Going through things is emotionally draining for all the reasons described above: it never seems to end, I’d rather (or need to) do something else, I don’t know where to put each thing, I’m afraid I won’t be able to find it again, and I feel guilty getting rid of the things I no longer want or need (or do I? Maybe I’ll want or need it at some point in the future!). I feel so overwhelmed by all the stuff I have, sometimes I almost wish it would all just disappear.