Monday, November 22, 2010

an essay on cleaning.

Nothing brings me the satisfaction of a job well done quite like a gleaming surface can. The lemony scent of anti bacterial Lysol smells better to me than fresh bread at a bakery. I like to clean when I am bored, I like to clean when I am upset. Scrubbing away at that stubborn spot with windex and steel wool is therapeutic. There is something about a spotless room that can calm me down just like a can of cold, diet coke. I am a firm believer in the phrase ‘a clean house is a happy house,’ feel free to pity my future children.
My obsession with clean is a new phase of my life, and joined my collection of other weird habits when I moved out of my mother’s home into a college apartment with cinderblock walls. I suddenly realized that a clean space was a direct reflection upon how clean I could be, or how disgusting my roommates are. When my bed is made, I just appear to look more put together. I fully admit that I think clutter is laziness, and I already feel like a mother when I ask my roommates to move their computers and shoes into their personal spaces. It is obvious to my roommates when I have had a bad day and I think the apartment looks like a war zone; I leave passive aggressive notes that say things like “everyone please move all of your things off of the kitchen table... love you!” Some days I leave a chore chart and make my roommates (who are all responsible adults) sign up for a job that has to be done before they can go to bed that night. The indignant part of me always wins out against the guilt, and I find that have no qualms against bossing my peers around to get what I want.
Perhaps I like to clean a little too much, perhaps I like to be the dominant mother figure of whatever scene I am living in, or perhaps I just can’t control anything in life except how shiny the stainless steel sink is after I do the dishes.


  1. Your roommates talk about how much they depend on you for your motherliness. So if you decide to adjust, try not to let the pendulum swing too far - we all love you the way you are.

  2. S210 under your reign was never happier! I'm sorry that I always left the middle of our room a mess.