Middle of the day rambling

The question of what to hang on my walls is daunting to me. Not because I don’t have stuff. I have stuff. I have several posters I’ve carried around for years that desperately need framing. I have a few of Jay’s pieces, some of Marty’s, one of Tony’s. I have some digital cartoons I bought from some guy at the Phantasy. A cartoon of my name from Colleen and Matt. A box full of mirrors I haven’t put up cause quite frankly I’m a little sick of mirrors. A large promo canvas of Belle and Sebastian Tara snagged for me from the record store.

I’ve got more wall space then I know what to do with. And I am not a fan of empty walls. When I first moved in, I was full of plans to paint all sorts of crazy stuff in the hallway, and I found tree wallpaper I wanted to cover the library in. But both of those things require time and money, so I’ve been repeating this mantra to myself of “I’ll be here for a while, it doesn’t need to be done right away, wait till I’ve been here a year at least before I start pouring money into things I can’t take with me.” Patience patience patience. It’s hard. Especially when all my friends have such lovely tricked out places. But you know, they’ve lived there for YEARS. And the concept of living in one place for more than one year is a strange new thing for me. I still live under this perpetual fear that something really awful is going to happen, like I’ll lose my job and have to move back home, or there will be a fire, or my landlord will decide he’s selling the house*.

You know what I really want to do? Hire a maid to clean the damn place once every two months.

I don’t know why I just don’t clean stuff. When I look around at the mess, and I’m like, I should clean this room, it’s like my head literally goes blank and I’m completely incapable of any action. Cleaning is literally hardwired into me as not something I do. I know this isn’t from my parents, because they certainly tried to get me to chores all the time. Even when I was little, I was incapable of doing the simplest cleaning tasks. I just can’t do it. I’m blind when it comes to dirt. I try to get it clean, but my version of clean is like a 2 yr old’s idea of the alphabet.

I’m envious of people who just do it without thinking. Is there some hypnotism I can undergo to think like this? To do all my dishes before I go to bed. To vacuum every week. To scoop the kitty litter every day, and put things back in their place when I’m done with them.

I don’t think of myself as super lazy, but the truth is, I can’t get myself to do anything unless someone else is grading me or judging me. Can’t exercise every day. Can’t clean. Can’t quit smoking. The only thing that passes for willpower in my world is shame, and even that’s not very effective ‘cause I’m really good at not caring about your opinion unless I choose too, especially when you’re telling me something bad about myself.**

I’ve been trying to snap myself out of it.
But it’s like I hit a concrete wall. Seriously. I just freeze up. My muscles become waterlogged. My nerves get all shaky. I have a petulant preschooler inside me who just sits down in the middle of the store and refuses to move. It takes a monumental force, like 5 shots of espresso and the imminent threat of people coming over, to get any movement going.
And the sad part is, I really like having a clean house. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. If I had to compare the reaction to something I’m familiar with, I’d say I’m scared stiff. But who get’s scared of cleaning? I just tried googling that, and the answer is no one. There is a neurosis for everything except that. So I’m just lazy.










*All of these things have happened to me, so this is not me being paranoid.
** Just kidding, there’s nothing really wrong with me. No matter what my flaws, I’m still awesome.