This doesn’t happen to me so much outside of my own home, but it’s starting to drive me crazy. When I walk into the house, I immediately see the things that are out of place. The things that need to be cleaned, or put away. Today when I came home, the first thing I notice when I walk into the laundry room (aside from the blinking red light on the washing machine announcing that the load I put on a timer when I left this morning is done) is that Martin’s backpack is on the counter, along with his hat and some books. The shoes are all out of place. There are clothes from the weekend’s laundry round that someone didn’t put away.
When I walk into the kitchen, I see Karin’s backpack and keys on the kitchen table. Dirty dishes in the sink. Recycleables that need to be sorted.
In the little hallway, someone’s headphones on the phone stand.
In the bathroom, the kid’s cabinet door is open from this morning, my own nightgown on the windowsill (shame!) and the laundry basket lids are askew.
And so it goes, throughout the house. Every room I walk into…the first thing I see is the thing that needs to be FIXED. RIGHTED. TAKEN CARE OF.
It’s exasperating, both that it’s what I focus on, AND that it’s invariably someone else that has done it to begin with. And yet, I close the cabinet, put the dishes in the dishwasher, call the kids to come pick up their stuff, put my nightgown away. *sigh* I can’t really relax until things are in order. Or at least in BETTER order. I don’t get out the mop or anything, …I’m not OBSESSED.
Heh.
And yet, I can go months without cleaning the fish tank or dealing with the well beneath the bathtub. The windows are a disgrace, but there’s no point in cleaning them…it’s rainy season, right? I’m not obsessed with perfection or super-cleanliness…I just appreciate order.
And if I have to BEAT MY FAMILY INTO COMPLIANCE, so be it.