I hadn’t thoroughly cleaned the house for two months. Then, I finally cleaned it because company was coming. Yesterday I cleaned the house for myself. I stepped away from the canvas, from the computer, the writing journal and dived into cleaning starting with the dreaded tile in the bathroom. It took hours. Afterwards, I felt an immediate reward. The tile was refreshed and looked beautiful. As I sit down to the computer today, I feel lighter and loved by my efforts at order and cleanliness.
When things aren’t flowing, cleaning can somehow change things up. Why is that? Perhaps, when I’m stuck, cleaning the house gives me a feeling of mastery. When nothing else makes sense, when there is no flow, cleaning the house seems like a brilliant option. It sort of gives me a new start, if not a fresh perspective. Life is a weaving together of strands and fragments. Cleaning is something I can rely on that supports whatever else is happening personally and in the larger world.
It’s not that this is my first go to when I don’t know what direction to go in. Yet, it is strange how this seems to make a difference. It can redirect my thinking and uplift
my spirit as it produces a very reliable product. A clean house!
After I finish cleaning, I want the effort to be appreciated not only by me. I might invite some friends over for brunch.
The character, Monica, in the long-running popular television series, Friends, has an obsessive compulsive quality to her need to clean.