#181 - Mopped Floors & Fully Finished Chores sweep into your inbox with: The Twelve Days of Smokemas Day 11 | Deep Cleaning my Apartment

Well hey there! Welcome to the second to last day of smokemas! Smokemas Eve, if you will!

(I went through and numbered all of these yesterday and was surprised to discover that this would be #11, despite that fact that I have been long able to count to twelve. I think I count the first essay as zero in my head? Oh well, didn't major in math so my ego takes no damage in this discovery!)

I spent a huge chunk of my day cleaning. Woke up, tons of laundry, hands and knees for floors and floorboards, vacuumed crannies the nooks didn't even know existed, power steam cleaned my window crevices which remains equally gross & satisfying, my entire shower is so cleeeean there is not a single spec of soap scum left, all the teeny tiny trash cans have been emptied, there is no compost or recycling left to take out, I even descaled the Nespresso machine before the light went off I just knew it was coming (it's not entirely a sense thing, my coffee has tasted Not Great this entire week).

(For extra points I do want to mention that it was also 15 degrees this morning and I had to take off and put on my coat so many times I fully understand every child who has ever cried while trying on snowpants at the mall!)

I keep my house reasonably tidy. Like I vacuum a lot because I have cats and their hair/litter gets everywhere, I wipe down my desk a lot because of the aforementioned cat hair/I like having a super neat desk because then I don't get distracted by mess, and my bathroom is quickly whooshed like every other day.

But I often resist Big Cleans, even though I know they'll make me feel so much better because waking up to a clean apartment fucking rules. No tripping over anything, no having to wash your mug before coffee (therefore potentially exposing yourself first thing in the morning to the worst substance in the world: dish water), no sweatshirt on the back of the chair that you totally meant to put away yesterday & the day before.

Clean. Peaceful!

I've been trying to confront my excuses head on recently.

My default attitude towards my choices (or lack thereof) tends to be, well, wimpy. I'm quick to believe I can't do it, that the effort won't be worth it, that the experience will be lame and therefore not worth trying.

I'm a lazy person.

Luv 2 b lay-z.

But I don't like the results of leisure.

I might not love the act of cleaning (boring, tiresome, occasionally gross, always a bit sweaty) but I love the results.

There's something about an onion skin on the floor that will absolutely ruin my mood.

I hate seeing them, I hate the feeling of picking them up, I hate when they inevitably stick to my hands and/or miss the garbage/compost and float back down to the ground as if they're mocking me and my attempts to keep my home tidy.

And the truth is, the attempts have been mmm well,

uninspired.

I might vacuum the floor but I'm not moving everything out of the way. The thoroughness has left the building and tbh I'm not sure in this apartment it ever entered it.

Why have I been living this way?

Well, I think because I've been getting away with it.

And I'm not just talking about the cleaning, the cleaning has moved firmly into the metaphorical realm in this portion of my written confession (because it's Smokemas Eve, and on Smokemas Eve you admit to your faults).

Mindfulness has not been the focus. It's been getting on, getting by, getting somewhere but nowhere fast and certainly not with any distinct purpose.

I've allowed my desires to wane, to shape very little of my day, and I think I have been consumed by fear but instead of really confronting it I've been eschewing with some frankly inconsistent results.

You know, like how I felt too overwhelmed by The World and The Important Things Happening to write all year so I've had to do streaks of essays in order to force myself into a state of mind where I'm not pre-judging the page before it's written. I've also been using The World and The Important Things as excuses.

A lot of people are just living excuse to excuse.

And I know that, and I've still been one of them. Might even still be (but the first step is admitting it, etc).

The problem with excuses is that you get really good at making them, and they stop sounding like excuses and start sounding more like explanations. They're easier to be swayed by, especially when you haven't maintained the muscles necessary to resist.

Doing nothing sounds amazing, until it's all you do.

I don't want to live in a messy apartment. I don't want to feel like I can't make changes or develop new habits or try new things or get medium at a new hobby. Not even good! Lukewarm! That's gotta be attainable and all it takes is for me to believe it so like, guess I gotta write it down and saying it out loud over and over again until it becomes a truth.

Sometimes when discussing the current Dating Tribunal, I describe the vibe I get from single dudes who think that they just need to meet the Right Girl and suddenly they'll be transformed into the Worthy Boyfriend they imagine themselves being. Magically all of their misogyny will be washed away because she is worth it. But the truth is, if they do happen upon this mystical version of a women, they will have no practice in any of the actions they imagine themselves capable of.

There is no overnight transformation.

Summer makeovers are a myth invented by YA authors. (And ol' Joey Cambs knows there's power in myths!)

Like, not in a sad way, in a realistic way: there is no one coming to save me. And even if there was, if I have no practice believing in myself, how will I believe others when they tell me they do?

And saving myself really does just look like a run of asking myself questions and then like actually putting effort in. A year of rest and relaxation was enough time actually, methinks, and I didn't like it, and if I haven't learned to enjoy the process of being purposeful in my life yet I can at least revel in the feeling of achieving results.

Putting shirts on a hanger is a snoozefest. Having all my shirts hung up so I can see which one they are and access all my clean clothes is an underrated quality of life improvement. Honestly getting my clothing somewhat organized this year HAS been an accomplishment, so next year we just have to add the block of not allowing a clothes swamp to form on the floor before I run out the door to go do something and then allow the swamp to become more of a wetlands until the Laundry Drought returns and I pile everything into IKEA bags and haul it half a block to the laundromat in order to defeat the monster that eats my good mood in the morning as I walk by it.

I know to treat my belongings better than that. I know that shirt is more likely to get damaged when it's on the ground, the place things go to be stepped on!

&& once I start I know it'll be easier to keep going.

Bodies in motion and all of that.

The days I do my laundry I wake up early early to make sure I get the machines I like/want – I'm so productive the rest of the day and part of that is getting up at 5am but the other part is that by feeling amazing and disciplined and on it first thing in the morning, I carry that can-do into the rest of the day.

When there aren't piles, I hesitate to leave things in places they don't belong.

The compulsion to be more careful with items, time, and efforts isn't one I have yet, but I do think that I'm ready and even excited to develop it!

And hey, I can take Smokemas as the first major step towards that because like we're gonna do it we're gonna hit 52 essays this year and they count because I'm making the rules here and also they're like wildly long for the most part because if there was such a thing as "short winded" it wouldn't apply to me or my speech/writing patterns!

Again! It's the framing, it's taking the time to celebrate and not just brush off something because I feel like I didn't do it The Right Way or The Way I Thought I Would or I didn't promote it because I haaaaate self-promo and I never want to post about a blog using a hashtag because it's not 2011!

I don't like writing about writing but if I never write about it and I never really talk about it because I'm not sure how to talk about a project I refuse to put guardrails around because I like it being whatever I want it to be but therefore I rarely talk about it in ways that convey any sense of pride or accomplishment in the project.

But here we are, on the eve of a goal being completed! The uh, only goal I really remember writing on those post its last year.

And not to celebrate too early but like. I did it! Another year! And that's fucking rad!!! And I am going to write that and leave it in because otherwise I'll forget to celebrate or give myself any credit because my instincts towards myself are to underplay any accomplishment and that leads to a cycle of procrastination because then at least I'll have excuses besides my still absent self-worth to change the rules of the game on myself to make it feel like a loss even when it's a win.

Lame! Boring! Honk shoo! Leaving self-flagellation, self-pity, self-indulgence BEHIND. They're out!

Loving yourself enough to give yourself the best chance to succeed at whatever you want to do is IN!

Gotta do something new! It's time!

Including, but not limited to, keeping my house clean.