Cleanliness does not disrupt my daily life until one day it just DOES.
I can happily saunter along, day by day, as the laundry basket turns into a laundry mountain, the (impractically small anyways!) waste basket turns into a mountain rivaling Laundry Mountain, the unfolded clean laundry happily gestates hidden away in the closet, random pairs of both my and my fiances shoes wait in perilous slumber for their chance to trip one of us, half drank glasses of water (I can't drink a full glass of water for I am convinced it becomes contaminated by invisible-to-the-eye air ghoulies waiting to be given an invitation to my bowels!), blinds up one side but down on the other, old receipts and magazines and overdue library books and hard week old solitary snickerdoodles sun bathing amidst the cacti on the dresser.
And then one day, I look around and feel utterly trapped, suffocated and down-right demonized by all of the chaos and clean it all up. After wards, I feel fresh and peaceful and happy and celebrate with a big cold (half) glass of water and a snickerdoodle cookie and the remnants don't seem worrisome enough to clean up just yet...
Last edited by Jillian Jayde; 05/16/10 08:04 AM.