Cleaning: My Dirty Secret
I don’t do drugs or gamble. But I clean. And it's a problem.
Who doesn’t love a stack of freshly laundered clothing or the delicate lines of a vacuum trail? Shiny surfaces germ-free environments and the lovely citrus scent of soaps and detergents; why don’t we clean more often? How could cleaning ever be a bad thing? How could it ever represent a problem or pose a threat to one’s well-being?
Well, if you’re anything like me, then the act of cleaning presents a slippery slope of addiction, compulsions, and instability.
Just a Hobby
Like any other addiction, it started off innocuous; the type of hobby others are envious of. It turns out that enjoying the “mundane” task that everyone puts off gives one a slight sense of pride.
It did not begin the way it is now. I saw some dust on the table and attacked it with Windex. My closet was stripped of all its clothes and then made whole again with the same clothes but this time, color-coordinated or sorted by category. It was simple and it made sense. It was healthy.
The feeling cleaning gave me was, at the risk of sounding dramatic, what I imagine certain drugs feel like; pure bliss and ecstasy. It gave…
