I get *scary* when I clean. My roommate Mari, when we lived on Spadina together, used to describe my cleaning binges as “taking up the crack pipe”, because I get seriously manic. No corner is too small to be dusted, no area too large to be completely disassembled and re-organized. The blinkers come off, and everything I normally ignore is suddenly screaming at me to pay attention to its filthy surfaces and disorderly placement.

Most folks clean their house like they take care of their teeth. Regular brushings and occasional check-ups ensure good maintenance. Whenever I take up the mop and broom, it’s more like a visit to the orthodontist. You dread it, then it’s humiliating and painful, you don’t want to leave the house until it’s over, but afterwards there is a solid sense of order that makes future cleanings far easier and more effective. I can’t believe I just made that analogy. Clearly, I need to put the kaibosh on my cleaning binge, and go watch some Smallville or CSI or something.

As an aside to my horrible dentistry metaphor, I completely ignore most of my body’s needs when the scrub bug bites me. Let me give a simple example, from today. Having taken sustenance in the form of toast with nutella earlier in the day, I failed to notice the hunger pangs gently buffeting my brain until 2 or 3pm (time is meaningless when you’re “in the groove”). So I decided, since I was on a roll, that cereal was the answer. I frenetically began reorganizing the cupboard that holds our cereal, until I shook myself out of it and poured myself a bowl of cranberry almond crunch. Brilliant. Now for… the milk. Ah. Yes. We ran out of milk last night and I was in such a rush to get started this morning, I didn’t even take the time to make tea. So, we’re out of milk. Now, there is a convenience store less than 3 minutes on foot from my home. It was an act of willful ignorance that lead me to not put on my flip flops and grab my wallet to go replenish our exhausted milk stores, but instead to crack open a can of ginger ale and pour that on my cereal instead. Seriously. I only wish I was kidding.

Anyhow, I’ve just given myself a slightly more fulfilling snack of baked beans on toast, and have run upstairs to check on LJ to make sure everyone’s doing okay despite the virulent plague that’s making the rounds – , , I’m looking at you here.

Naturally, the very last things I have left for myself to do are laundry (I hate it so) and sorting the paper piles in my room. Sigh.
is not going to be overjoyed with the bundles of clothes slumped all over his beloved basement when he gets home. Ugh.
Better go put the wash in the dryer.