‘Domestic bliss’ — wouldn’t that be great!

I’m going to start weekly support group get togethers for people with obsessive compulsive disorder. Personally I don’t struggle with it, but I’m hoping these folks will take one look at my house and start cleaning. I’ll be happy to provide drinks, snacks, brooms, mops, dust clothes and disinfectant cleaner by the gallon.

I used to hear people talk about “domestic bliss” and think “wow! Wouldn’t that be great!” until I learned they were talking about good family relations and then I was just disappointed. Here I thought domestic bliss meant floors that swept and mopped themselves; self-scrubbing toilets, sinks and shower stalls; dishes that automatically wash themselves; selfdusting furniture; and laundry that throws itself into the washer and dryer. I know housecleaning won’t kill me but still, why take the chance?

They say when your house is clean you feel happy, healthy and motivated. Not me. When my house is clean, I just feel exhausted.

My experience as an adult is one of trying to decide whether or not to throw out empty jars and cardboard boxes. I mean it’s rough to toss a good jar that could be used for something some day or a cardboard box that you just might need at some point to pack stuff in.

This leads to empty jars and cardboard boxes piling up and cluttering surfaces which leads to the second consistent experience I have of adulthood: eventually having to clean those surfaces and packing the empty cardboard boxes with empty jars and throwing them away.

And then there’s the kitchen which is a neverending mess. I mean every time I turn around, something needs wiping or washing. And as soon as I get it clean, someone needs something to eat and I can’t help but think “what do mean, you’re hungry? You ate yesterday. Buck up for pity sake!”

I have trouble with fourletter words like wash and dust. And, when I think I have the urge to get up and clean the house I give it a second thought and it always comes back “uh nooo, think again.” I mean seriously if the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results then housecleaning is that definition in action because it always gets dirty again. And, furthermore, who would take mind-numbing chores over wine with the girls? I want to know. So if the urge to clean strikes me when the girls are unavailable, I just lay down and take a nap until the urge passes.

My housekeeping style is best described as “there appears to have been a struggle here.” It’s not unusual for a room to look like a bomb went off when I’m in the middle of cleaning it. I mean after I’ve removed all the cushions from the sofa and chairs to vacuum them, taken the nicks and knacks off the shelves to dust and pulled up the rugs to sweep I think what could possibly be more fun than this? And my answer is always the same: hiring a maid.

Except if I did hire a maid, I’d have to clean for several hours before she came and then still apologize for the mess.

I’ve even tried that decluttering trick where you hold everything you own in your hands and if it doesn’t bring you joy, you throw it out. But this just lead to a garbage can full of my husband’s dirty socks and me passed out on the cushionless sofa after holding several different bottles of tequila. The house didn’t get clean but … I found the joy and it went really well with salt and lime.