Within the last 30 days, I have cleaned and organized every corner of my apartment. Seriously. As I was waiting for my computer to turn on a few moments ago my eyes wandered over to two sloppy shelves which I promptly dusted and tidied. So 15 minutes ago it would have been almost every corner.
Storage closet: done. Dumping table by the front door: done. Spice cabinet (“That expired in 2008?”): done. Medicine drawer (“That expired in 2005?”): done. DVDs put back in cases. Pictures hung on the walls. Camping/hiking stuff put away. Mail piles (yes, there were multiple) organized, recycled, and shredded.
If I was pregnant, I’m sure people would say I was nesting. Instead, I don’t know what this is. So maybe I’ll have to call it a sudden desire to be a grown up. Either that or alien possession. Or possibly being inspired by that trip to IKEA I took right after Christmas.
It’s not like I haven’t cleaned my apartment before. I have, and often. But I also have this crazy urge now to KEEP it clean and tidy, and I have for two whole weeks. I think part of my problem was not having a designated place for everything, so things piled up in random locations — like those two shelves I just fixed — and that trickled down so that things that DID have a home didn’t get put away either.
But now I’ve vacuumed twice in one week, and cleaned the canister out after each use. In the evenings clothes don’t get dumped wherever but are actually hung up or put in the hamper. The bed is made. The remotes are put away when I’m done. Trash is taken out before pizza boxes pile up. And, miracle of miracles, my sink is not full of dirty dishes.
Now that I think about this more, I’m trending towards alien possession…
(This is the place where I’d take you on a photo tour of my home, except that I accidentally dropped my camera in water. I guess some things don’t change.)
But that’s not all. A month ago I was eating lunch at work when I looked down and comprehended what I was eating: a spinach salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing. That I brought myself from home in a lunch bag. AND I was enjoying it. I promptly sent a g-chat message to my coworker down the hall. “I’m eating spinach salad for lunch. I’ve become a grown up! How on Earth did that happen?”
Willingly eating your vegetables, finding a place to house your remotes, watching your dish immediately after you use it, these are some signs of grown-up-dom. The scariest thing is that I kind of like it.
Though in classic college-student-esque decor, my living room is still lit by Christmas lights.