attack of the overzealous cleaning fairy

every month i go through a week of ups and downs. it's generally the week prior to my period, so i should have an idea of when this will occur. however, i have selective amnesia, which is a boon to my existence.

this week kicked off with the usual suspects: insomnia, a ravenous appetite, and the activation of my genetic "clean the freaking house" gene.

my mom's mom is known as "the white tornado," since she's super fast and kept her house immaculately clean, when she was still living at home. my own mom cleans every saturday morning; my sister cleans on mondays. i generally stick to the saturday or sunday morning routine--clean, clean, clean, then shower and nap, and then start the day. i know, makes your heart race, doesn't it?

anyway, thursday night i slept for shit--par for the course. after four or five hours, my brain pokes me awake and i have to get up and start the day. which i did--i was at work by 630, and home by 1230. at that point, i thought i should take a nap. but there was a cat vomit stain next to the entertainment center, and i couldn't slumber in good conscience until it was clean.

as usual, this turned into an hour-long marathon, in which i vacuumed and steam-cleaned the whole living room, took out all garbage and recycling, cleaned the cat restroom area and the human bathroom, and got the dishwasher loaded and running. by the time i was done i had to shower, but all i could think was, what else can i get done?

this will wear off shortly. but for this last week, my kitchen has been clean, and now the carpet in the living room is not covered with fine layer of shiva.

i suppose i should look on the bright side: if i do this once a month, the house will stay clean.

but it does get me thinking about cycles--the earth has a cycle, which dictates to humanity how we shape our lives. for the most part, the modern primate can live however they want to--regardless of weather, your house can be filled with light and cool, or dim and warm: it's your choice.

i think this gives humanity the false sense that they are more in control of their existence than they really are. i also think it separates us from our direct environs, which in turn can be confusing to the system in general.

anyway, this morning i woke up smelling the leftover linen refresher spray that i'd doused the bedroom drapes in yesterday, during the scouring spasm. i lay there, listening to the world wake up--the birds chirping, the random hum of a vehicle. i remembered when i was a kid, waking up in the summertime, cool air on my face, and the smell of roses blooming below the window, warm beneath my blankets, the soft snores and rustlings of my sisters melting into the coo of fifty doves on the line outside. i thought of five years ago, waking up in the little cabin and hearing my cat purr on my chest, and the loons on the lake sharing their eerie music.

i am in a different place now, a different part of the world. and yet the cycles of life--seasons, genes, my very own pair of X-chromosomes--still control the memories that are triggered, the scent of my comforter, and the cleanliness of my linoleum.