I cleaned my room last night.
Certainly not very exciting and, given that I live in a room the size of a prison cell, it should have taken half an hour at most.
HOWEVER, it has occurred to me that I am incapable of just ‘keeping on top of things’. I have friends who just give their own rooms a quick clean every now and again, or maybe open the window once in a while to blow all the dust away. That works for them. I, on the other hand, have limited skills when it comes to making life easy for myself.
What I do – with most things in life, but particularly with cleaning – is ignore it. It’s just nicer that way. I can go for weeks on end just ignoring the piles of clothes, the discarded notebooks and the Creme Egg wrappers, and pretend that things are fine.
Sometimes though, I snap.
I snapped last night.
I started out as a woman just wanting to be able to see her carpet. I could have achieved this via a quick tidy. That, as I'm sure you have guessed, would have been much too simple. Therefore I decided that, while I was cleaning, I might as well clean ALL THE THINGS.
I began to 'sort things out'.
Five and a half hours later, I was on my hands and knees in a pile of t-shirts and SERIOUSLY questioning my mental health. That was nothing, though, compared to what my flatmates must have been thinking when I got the (very noisy) hoover out at 1.45am and proceeded to give my room (and our shared corridor) a once over.
It is safe to say that my room is now as clean as it’s ever going to be. My back may never recover, I smell strongly of bleach and I have a carpet burn on my knee, BUT AT LEAST MY ROOM IS CLEAN.
If I had more energy, I would probably garner some kind of life lesson from this.