Friday, June 3, 2011

Who needs therapy? I have a toilet to scrub

As wives, mom’s, hell, women in general we usually have a few universal bitches.  Husbands/boyfriends/significant others, kids and/or pets, and cleaning house are the usual suspects.

My constant bitching about house cleaning is a source of amusement amongst my family members. They mock me (behind my back of course) about my “This house is a disaster!” catchphrase. My nagging, yelling and eventual meltdown regarding the lack of help from them has become so expected that they just mumble something incoherent and then rush to do whatever it is I am yelling about at that given moment.  

But then there are the days that I am nervous, upset, sad, or angry and house cleaning changes from a daily source of drudgery to a much needed therapeutic exercise.  Turning on loud music, organizing the items needed for each room and then losing myself in the bleach fumes is the most cathartic thing in the world. The sight of a sparkling clean toilet that you could eat cake off of is enough to bring a tear of joy to my eye, and help to dispel a shitty mood- if only momentarily. 

So I save $100 an hour and not only feel emotionally rejuvenated, but can see what my hard work has accomplished and it makes me smile.  And at the end of the day- when the fruits of my labor have diminished or vanished completely, I can still sit back with a glass of wine and be content in the knowledge that my family has been spared my OCD like nagging about helping out, and that I have saved them from the common cold for another day- even if they never even notice.