Dust bunnies, that is. It must be spring. All that rain has sprouted every seed in existence, and they’re all weeds, and they’re all in my yard. The inside of the house doesn’t look a whole lot better. They call them dust bunnies because they reproduce at an alarming rate. I’ve started learning feng shui, to motivate myself to do housework. There has to be some creative narcotic fix to this, or some kind of puzzle or magic to hold my interest, or it ain’t gettin’ done. I find the prospect of writing an entire novel less daunting than cleaning house. I’d rather read a rejection letter than clean house.
I don’t have the housekeeping chromosome. Somehow in the genetic anomaly that is me, that got replaced or overwritten or—actually I think my sister stole mine. She has enough of it for two or three people.
When we were little girls my next older sister and I shared a bedroom, and my clutter drove her to distraction. It took too long to put things away, because I was off to the next thing, or I was playing with the dog or cat, or I had a sudden idea I needed to sit and mull over. Mull while picking up? That never occurred to me. (It still doesn’t.) So things, um, piled up. When my sister wailed in protest loudly enough, one of our parents suggested dividing the room down the middle. She kept her side perfectly neat. Mine? Even I don’t want to remember it, so I’m sure I was still unpleasant to share a room with. As soon as an older sibling moved out, Sis jumped at the chance for a room of her own. She painted her new walls a lovely butter yellow.
Even though messiness is my natural condition since birth, I realize it doesn’t work for me, that it’s a flaw. I love beauty and peace. I require it. I discovered this early, and out in the work world I surprised myself by always keeping a fairly neat desk at the office. When the house is a mess my mind is cluttered too. I have to clear out the debris in order to let new ideas in. So every few months, when the planets are perfectly aligned, I build up to the point where I can’t stand this house one more minute, and I clean. For some reason the planets took longer to get into the proper alignment this time. Out of desperation I’ve delved into Chinese astrology and Ba Gua overlays. Nourishing cycles and controlling cycles. Don’t quiz me on all this yet, it’s still new.
This morning I feng shuied my way outside to mail some bills, and I actually had the foresight to take my gardening gloves with me so I could pull some weeds. Some is the operative word. I tore through the ones around the mailbox until my tendons screamed that I’d better stop or my arms would fall off. Twenty-five years sitting behind computers will do that to your body. I didn’t make much headway, but at least the postal carrier’s stop at our house will be more pleasant for him this afternoon. If I can stay motivated to do this each day, maybe the neighbors will stop wondering if we’ve died in here. That happens to be a big part of my motivation, since I have the embarrassment chromosome in abundance.
Yours in messiness, transforming into bliss. If I can keep my motivation.
1.
Happy cleaning - and have a nice weekend.
Comment by cassie-b — April 29, 2005 @ 11:49 am
2.
In the days when flocks of passenger pigeons darkened the skies people figured there was no end to them. So they hunted and hunted and see what happened. Today it might seem there’s no end to dust bunnies, so everyone hunts them relentlessly. Save the dust bunnies!
Comment by Eric Mayer — April 29, 2005 @ 6:24 pm
3.
I used to be extremely neat (Dutch parents…nuff said) but I have steadily gotten messier as the years go by. My reasons have more to do with having tons more interesting things to do than cleaning and just putting it off. But I spent hours today cleaning and the house looks pretty decent…and it feels so darn good. Good luck with yours.
Comment by violetismycolor — April 29, 2005 @ 6:31 pm
4.
My ex always used to quip that God had made a mistake – that my right hand should have been a sponge. I ditched him and the sponge.
Comment by Reenie — April 30, 2005 @ 3:50 am
5.
You can be organized but not neat — at least, that’s the way I justify not cleaning. Everything here is carefully stacked into piles (otherwise known as “filing by the archaeological method”). Cleaning would only dislodge the piles and send things cascading everywhere — and then what a mess we’d be in!
Comment by blogdog — May 2, 2005 @ 2:57 pm
6.
1. WOW! You’re site is great. I found you over at Kingfisher Cove.
2. That post was very honest and hit home with me.
3. You’re so right, some of us have the cleaning chromosome, and some do not.
Today I started reclaiming my house from the mess, the dog hair, the laundry piles and the dust. I am reclaiming it one corner at a time. Actually I did 75% of the bedroom, including the laundry room (which was spilling out of the bifold doors and slowly taking over the bedroom).
Comment by Nancy — May 7, 2005 @ 5:33 pm
7.
You’re all so kind to help me feel more normal in my pile of clutter. Eric and blogdog, you crack me up.
After this post about dust bunnies, and Eric’s insistence that we save the bunnies, imagine my amazement when I took this quiz, found by way of Down the Writer’s Path, and learned what book I am.
You’re Watership Down!
by Richard Adams
Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you’re
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You’d
be recognized as such if you weren’t always talking about talking rabbits.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Thanks to this quiz, and all your comments, I don’t feel so misunderstood now.
Meanwhile, back at the designated dust bunny preserve, I edited out the word “honey” in the post because my husband was afraid you’d all think he’d been nagging me to clean house. No, he’s as disorganized as I am, if not worse.
Comment by Barbara W. Klaser — May 9, 2005 @ 2:30 pm