Just call me McPinesol

I've never been a 'tidy and neat' person. Ever.

Sure I keep the house as clean as I can working 50+ hours a week sometimes, but I'll be completely honest...I am NOT my mother. She sees a glass you drank water from in the sink for more than 3 seconds and WWIII descends upon you. Your watching t.v. in the living room and decide to kick off your shoes while you're relaxing...she turns into a spawn of hell and bites your quivering-out-of-manic-fear ass right off ya. She's so intense. She's OCD about the smalles things.

I am not.

I see a crumb? It's not the end of my existence, I'll clean it on my way back to the kitchen when I'm done with my plate...no need to ruin dinner obsessing over a crumb. I'll do laundry when I get the chance. I'm chill. I can be a bit of a hoarder but, thankfully, I'm not too bad about it...usually when I see stuff getting a little behind I'll get it done, alebeit, reluctantly and mumbling grumpily the whole time.

So...what the hell is wrong with me? I noticed something last week when I was obsessing over washing my car. It was filthy, I couldn't stand it! So, amidst grasshopper attacks and people laughing at me shrieking every 5 seconds, I washed my car. I mean REALLY washed my car. None of this go through the automatic carwash crap. I mean hose the sucker down, foam brush, hose the sucker down, foam brush it again, hose the sucker down, clean the tires and wheels, wipe the glass, get rid of the family of papers living inside my car cleaning. Have you ever seen Harry and The Hendersons? Old 80's movie about bigfoot? Harry just LOVES to eat hamburgers from a certain place in a yellow wrapper. So in one of the scenes they show the inside of the station wagon and it is FULL of yellow wrappers everywhere. That was my car except it was: drinking straw wrappers from taco villa, mcd's, sonic and starbucks...and receipts. ENDLESS receipts from banks, pharmacies, any single purchase I've made in a month or two. Not to mention my letters. I don't believe in opening my mail. I assume I know what I owe and I insist I do not need to open junk mail (or I'll end up signing up for credit I don't need).

After my car washing fiasco, I tackled laundry. I'm usually mentally prepaired to face the dreaded ass-and-destruction clothes pile. I actually did all the laundry, hung it out, got stung by a wasp, put it away and was done with all of it in 2 days. I usually wash what I need to wear within the next few days and use the "ill wash this weekend" excuse for the rest of the unloved pile laying on the laundry room floor. After that, I went to CVS and went on a cleaning supply rampage. I got home and tore up the kitchen cleaning and moving stuff around, getting so...so high on bleach is not even funny. The scent of Clorox, Comet and Fabuloso (hispanic Pinesol) filled the house along with the pretty glade plug ins I bought for the rooms. Next I opened the bathroom door and my soul screeched in horror. Oh bathroom! Oh the humanity! What the heck is that?! So I walk in there with my Clorox Bathroom cleaner in front of me like a crucifix warding off evil bathroom spirits. I tackle the toilet, which I swear was talking to me like the one in that Look Who's Talking movie..."I WANNA EAT YOUR PEE PEE!!" yeah, I have a great imagination. I cleaned, threw out (and almost up), scrubbed tub...the whole nine yards. I should mention my house has no central AC, only 3 wall units: living room, spare room and bedroom...and this house also has no insulation. It was easily 95F in that restroom with the sun shining through the window...once again now I'm high on Fabuloso/Clorox/Comet/Windex + overhelming heat. Fun times.

After that, every few minutes I found myself going to the restroom to keep it "clean". Washing the cup I used for water and spraying the sink clean again. Fast forward to today at work... I've cleaned the restrooms twice. Every time I go, I find it filthy and use it as an excuse to give it a scrub down and clean around.

Wait...did...have I turned into my mother?

Fuck.

"Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day." - Simone de Beauvoir