I have become obsessed by cleary-upping.
It is horrible. I think about nothing else. Only cleary-upping.
I walk about this house, putting down things up.
It's bad. I worry all my brains will leak out. Along with my capability to make a healthy intelligent mess. If it continues, I will be a hollow shell of my former self. I will wake up, wearing a floral pinny and a beatific smile, then take to smoothing over sofa cushions with an air of blessed devotion.
I may be too far gone already. Because I cleared a patch of floor, organised a shelf, and rearranged the sofa cushions. And I WAS PROUD OF IT. You see? It has all gone horribly wrong. I actually looked at the sofa cushions and thought, They look NICE.
Soon, too soon, will be gone the chaos kid fest of a house where I squat. I imagine myself already, ejecting them each morning at 7.56, precisely, to make a mess elsewhere, then patrolling the front room. My job will be security guard on early release at holiday camp.
My cushions will then be more important than my children. I will truly become the woman I despise. This blog will be filled with tales of Cushion Cover Drama! More pointless. More wittery. More twittery. Pointlessly squittered into oblivion. Phut. There it goes. 2,500 words on how I reorganised my dishwasher tablets.
For goodness sake, save me. I want to be a slattern, a sloven, a slop. I shall unshoulder this burden, take a day off, wear clothing from the stinkedoutbottom of the laundry basket, go and roll about the grass, and tell the kids, Those mud pies you made? Bring them in! We'll have them for tea.
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3 comments:
Don't panic, Grit. A few hours thinking about couch cushions is not going to turn you into Martha Stewart overnight. You'll be in China before Neatness gets you in its evil clutches.
And besides, what's wrong with organizing one's dishwasher tablets? Looking into a neat drawer helps distract me from the larger state of Hovel I live in.
WAIT. Are you going to have to put those kiddos in school? Or did I misread?
Smoothing cushions is wonderful. I do it. I can pick up cushions and put them on the chairs. I can't do anything else. So smoothing and stroking the easy bits feels good. They may be covered in gravy and wee - but they are smooooooth - and on a chair. This is the closest to Stepford I will ever get. Just have to cover my eyes to everything else. I have smooth cushions for 2 minutes. A good day.
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