I'm a very contradictory person. On the one hand, I'm addicted to neatness. I love everything to be organized, tidy, dusted, and beautiful. On the other hand, I don't want to do it.
Well, I will up to a point. I get the occasional mood when there's nothing so delightful to me as spending a few hours rearranging my bookshelves, or cleaning my sock drawer. Suddenly I'll wake up knowing that every file on my computer is in the wrong place and must be moved, or that I can no longer stand a particular room and it must must MUST be cleaned up.
Then I have to actually move around and finish it. This presents problems.
A few of the problems are more than just in my head. I do have a malformation in my lower back that makes it very painful to be on my feet for many hours at a time, and also makes lifting anything heavy rather risky. I've pulled my hip and back out many times, and it's not something I really enjoy, so I'm cautious. I have a nice, strong husband who's perfect for heavy lifting, if I can just guilt/persuade/bribe him to do it.
Next, I share a life with six cats. I know, I know, but I love each and every one of them. Anything I'm doing is always of immense interest to them, especially if means they can climb into, onto, over, under, around, beside, or through whatever it is (yes, I have the participal cats -- aren't they all?) It's even better if I'm stacking things up, because then they can knock it over. Cats conduct frequent experiments in gravity, did you know? They control it like no one else. It's how they manage to levitate across a room without touching anything, yet can weight 30,000 pounds when they land on your stomach while you are sleeping. Amazing animals, cats. Anyway, cats do not mesh well with cleaning.
The last problem is that, as noble and ambitious as my cleaning intentiions are, I almost always run out of interest, energy or both before I'm done. Well before I'm done. I mean HOURS before I'm done.
At this moment I am sitting on the bed. The bed has four sleeping cats, three small pizza boxes, a set of desk boxes, some CD's a bowl, three paper punches, a saddle stapler, some computer speakers, and a pile of catalogs on it. It's amazing I fit at all. Next to the bed is the chair for the desk we removed today. On the chair is a pack of ledger sized paper and some flat cardboard boxes. All of this must find a new home before I can settle down to sleep tonight.
From the bed I can look into the library. The library has been a permement overcrammed, dangerous to walk in mess for about 4 years, and today I decided that it just couldn't be messy anymore, so the desk is out and the old TV/Stereo stand was brought back from the storage unit. It's managing to hold everything the desk did in less space, and with a few book cases moved, the room is much more open and easy to move in. Well, it will be after I pick all the books back up and put them on their shelves, as well as finding new space for all the books that were sort of piled up because I didn't actually have a place for them. There are also some boxes on the floor full of files, and a wire rack of assorted electrical gizmos, wires, cords, cables, connectors, and other things. Somehow I must get these all tidy and put away somewhere. Husband must also sort through things, since a goodly portion of them are HIS, or at least he knows what they are so that we can decide if something can be thrown or given away without causing us to curse/scream/cry or repurchase something just like it later.
Right now the room could only look worse to me if there were landmines buried in it. Ugh.
Well, I've done all the grousing I can manage. It's 10 pm, so I'd best start doing the bedcleaning part, at least, and try to make some space for feet on the floor.