Sunday Dilemmas
I have realized that I would rather go to the lab than tidy/clean my apartment.
Only, it's really cold outside and I'd have to wait for the bus and since I just had a procrastination bath my hair is all wet and likely to freeze.
Also I'm hungry, so I'd have to stop for lunch and then by the time I got to lab I'd be there all evening. I don't have any food in the house, though, so I still have to go outside even if I don't go to lab.
Which means I might as well put some laundry on, since I have to go downstairs anyway and I am out of underwear, but I would rather just take my dirty clothes to the nice place where they wash and dry and fold it for me tomorrow morning, and just do without underwear for a day.
If I go to lab and come home late, there's no way I will actually clean my apartment or go grocery shopping, which leaves me with the problem of messy - slovenly, even - flat and no food.
I should really put the suitcases away from Christmas. And pick up the piles of paper from group meeting preparation that litter the floor. And transport the bathtowels from the top of the dresser into the closet. And remove the make-up from the kitchen table.
God, and I ought to change the bed sheets, too. And put the duvet cover on the quilt, instead of sleeping under a naked quilt like a refugee. I really hate doing that.* And the dozen or so books cast around the bed could go find homes on shelves, probably. At least the ones I've finished.
You know how mice in a cage build nests with the cedar chips and the torn-up cardboard boxes? Okay, picture that, but add a laptop and teacups and half-finished novels and stacks of unopened mail and bags of various sizes and shoes and dirty clothes. Now you have an approximate visual representation of my apartment.
I like a nice, clean tidy living space, I really do. I feel happiness and satisfaction when the house is clean and cozy and one doesn't have to thread one's way on tiptoes to get from bed to dresser. The problem is, I can easily close my eyes to the mess and it stops bothering me except as a sort of low-level sense of chagrin when I consider anyone else seeing it. Or when I can't find my bra, phone, or towel.
The mess really doesn't bother me too much until I decided Today Is The Day I Will Clean, at which point I start to writhe and squirm like a fish on a hook, and then I hate my apartment and I hate myself and I hate life, et cetera.
At least if I went to lab I'd have a good excuse for not cleaning.
Maybe I'll just go to the bookstore.
After I have lunch.
*Just to clarify, I really hate putting the duvet cover on the quilt. Sleeping under the naked quilt like a refugee, not a problem.
Only, it's really cold outside and I'd have to wait for the bus and since I just had a procrastination bath my hair is all wet and likely to freeze.
Also I'm hungry, so I'd have to stop for lunch and then by the time I got to lab I'd be there all evening. I don't have any food in the house, though, so I still have to go outside even if I don't go to lab.
Which means I might as well put some laundry on, since I have to go downstairs anyway and I am out of underwear, but I would rather just take my dirty clothes to the nice place where they wash and dry and fold it for me tomorrow morning, and just do without underwear for a day.
If I go to lab and come home late, there's no way I will actually clean my apartment or go grocery shopping, which leaves me with the problem of messy - slovenly, even - flat and no food.
I should really put the suitcases away from Christmas. And pick up the piles of paper from group meeting preparation that litter the floor. And transport the bathtowels from the top of the dresser into the closet. And remove the make-up from the kitchen table.
God, and I ought to change the bed sheets, too. And put the duvet cover on the quilt, instead of sleeping under a naked quilt like a refugee. I really hate doing that.* And the dozen or so books cast around the bed could go find homes on shelves, probably. At least the ones I've finished.
You know how mice in a cage build nests with the cedar chips and the torn-up cardboard boxes? Okay, picture that, but add a laptop and teacups and half-finished novels and stacks of unopened mail and bags of various sizes and shoes and dirty clothes. Now you have an approximate visual representation of my apartment.
I like a nice, clean tidy living space, I really do. I feel happiness and satisfaction when the house is clean and cozy and one doesn't have to thread one's way on tiptoes to get from bed to dresser. The problem is, I can easily close my eyes to the mess and it stops bothering me except as a sort of low-level sense of chagrin when I consider anyone else seeing it. Or when I can't find my bra, phone, or towel.
The mess really doesn't bother me too much until I decided Today Is The Day I Will Clean, at which point I start to writhe and squirm like a fish on a hook, and then I hate my apartment and I hate myself and I hate life, et cetera.
At least if I went to lab I'd have a good excuse for not cleaning.
Maybe I'll just go to the bookstore.
After I have lunch.
*Just to clarify, I really hate putting the duvet cover on the quilt. Sleeping under the naked quilt like a refugee, not a problem.
posted by Joolya at
2:11 PM
4 Comments:
Ahh....you see, here is the crux of the "cleaning problem," at least where it applies to me and Joelster. He does "like a nice, clean tidy living space," and he does "feel happiness and satisfaction when the house is clean and cozy and one doesn't have to thread one's way on tiptoes to get from bed to dresser."
I, in all honesty, just don't. Clutter or clean, I'm just as happy to sit and watch tv and pet the cats. Left to my own devices, I would literally never dust or vacuum, and would only clean the kitchen and the bathroom, because those are the only places I care about cleanliness.
In the abscence of the Joelster, nothing would ever be done about piles of books, nests of dirty laundry, dust, empty wine bottles, and other miscellaneous crap that builds up. Because he cares, and I don't. It's just weird.
I only clean my apartment because I worry that, if I were to die suddenly, people would talk about how messy I was.
As long as the clutter situation is below the "embarrassing if found dead" level, I'm happy to ignore the mess.
Oh my god, I've finally found people just like me and we are all scientists. I am much the same as Joolya and ennuiherself. I love a clean apartment but I am never there and when I come home and sit down I never want to move...or always pick up after myself. Like the clean clothes often get folded and stay in the basket....the bed with the naked quilt so mine. The coffee and tea cups...me too. Although I am always worried I will have surprise visitors and then I would be embarrassed or something will happen and then the "embarrassing if found dead level thoughts always happen".
MCG, thank you! It's true, when you spend only about four waking hours a day in your apartment, the last thing you want to do during them is the grunt work of cleaning and tidying. I mean, I do enough of *that* at the lab!
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