Sunday, June 22, 2014

Day 321 of 365: Cleaning House and Knowing How to Adult

There are only two events that will get me to properly clean my house (and, before that, apartment): when someone outside of my immediate group of friends was coming over or when we're about to leave for a while.

The first makes sense: hey, these random people are coming over. And, for some reason, you care about their opinion of your residence way more than the people who are closest to you. Hurrah for flawed human logic.

The second makes sense if you are even the least bit anal-retentive. Who wants to come home from vacation and see dirty dishes in the sink, floors that need cleaning, laundry that needs to be done, and a bed that needs to be made? If you don't give a flying shit (or even a meandering shit) about laundry or dishes, than a pre-vaca clean-up makes zero sense.

I've spent the last three days completely overhauling this house. From the standard, "pick your random shit off the floor," to washing the doors -- to scrubbing the fridge to within an inch of its life. What really shocked me was the level to which I cleaned up the house. I mean, I ironed the tablecloth for my dining room table. When did I become someone who irons their tablecloths? Or washes doors? Or even realizes that doors can get dirty in the first place?

Wait, rooms have doors?

It's a stark contrast from even just a year or two ago. Before this, I would clean up the apartment before a vacation by making sure laundry and dishes were done and no cat vomit had been left unattended. Now I fret over the wrinkles in long swatches of fabric. Is this what being an adult is like? Does this mean I have to start wearing pants now?

Somewhere along the line I drank the Kool Aid and started doing things my parents would do. Well, other people's parents, really. I haven't yet started acting like my mom, and I won't until I start chatting with the telemarketers about my dog's diarrhea problem or womanly issues associated with menopause -- and not in a way to troll the poor telemarketer.

I'm not kidding about either of those, by the way.

But, seriously, preparing for this particular vacation has been a huge reminder that I somehow learned How to Adult. And knowing How to Adult includes cleaning soap scum out of shower door runners and dusting things.

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