Have you ever cleaned because you just got the whim to do it? And often it's not a whim but an odd compulsion that I cannot ignore. I do this all of the time, and it's never in a conspicuous place that probably needs to be cleaned, but the hidden areas that I notice randomly that need some reorganizing or vaccuuming... and I ignore it until I have a complete freak-out about it and clean until my legs are stiff and I've got 3 trash-bags full of junk to get rid of from said area.
This happened to me last night. I needed, I emphasize NEEDED, to go to bed early because I was supposed to get up before the crack of dawn, but as I sat in my cozy bed trying to get comfortable I looked to the corner of my room. In said corner a stack of books and magazines that no longer fit on the bookshelves along with various other random things sat like jagged but stable pillars and columns from ancient ruins. I rolled over and watched a few minutes of television before setting the sleep timer for 10 minutes, ignoring the corner. Drowsiness came in waves and soon I realized that the television had turned itself off, as I had programmed it to earlier.
And then I was awake. WIDE awake.
I had lost all feelings of comfort and sleep, and slowly a voice whispered in my ear,"What about that corner? Are you going to let it just sit there? You should get up and just straighten it out a bit so you can sleep better." I ignored the voice. I defied the voice. Yet the voice persisted. I did not give in, I would not give in... but maybe I would sleep better if I just moved a few things around, right? Much tossing and turning ensued as I fought my hardest to ignore the call of the ruins in the corner. In the end, the voice won.
So I got up and turned on the lights, fumbled downstairs to get a trashbag or two, and returned to the corner in my room. I sat and began sorting the books into various piles depending on topic and size, and then stacking them up in a Rubbermaid tub that is my make-shift book repository until I move into a house with bookshelf-lined walls in almost every room. I riffled through the magazines, making a pile for the good ones I wanted to keep and tossing the old abused ones into a pile for recycling. I found old receipts, a few broken barrets, old pictures, wedding and shower invitations stuck between books that I had intended to save, along with random bits of stuff that I wasn't sure how had gotten into the corner and escaped the trash the first time around. I found my journal from last year and of course had to read through bits of that before finding a home for it in aforementioned tub.
Two and a half hours passed swiftly before I finished deconstructing the pillars of random items. I stood up and my legs buckled slightly beneath me from lack of use or movement and I felt tired and heavy. I slumped into bed and pulled the covers over my head. The little voice returned and said,"Don't you feel better now that it's all cleaned up?".
And I replied,"Yes".
I have said it before and I will say it again, where does it all come from?
PS. I secretly love cleaning. And kitchen gadgets.
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