The Dust Made Me Do It

There is something about certain kinds of dirt that can send me into an obsessive fixation. It’s not so much the smudges, marks, or stuck on kind.  I mean, yeah, that kind bothers me too, but I can let it go. I’m talking about the kind you can sweep up into a pile.

It mocks me as I lie on my exercise mat while doing my Pilates DVD. I look across the floor of the room and I can see everything: The couscous that I knew I shouldn’t have made for the kids.

The sand that my son poured out from his shoe, even after I’d told him a thousand times to do it outside.

And the stray pieces of cereal that my kids were somehow unable to contain in their bowls this morning, which will surely end up stepped on and crunched into a thousand pieces.

It goes deeper than that too. My fixation is not only in my own home, but extends to others as well. I may have just cut my invitations over in half with that sentence, but let me explain.

It’s not the whole house…the laundry on the couch, some dishes in the sink, a crumpled towel in the bathroom. Its usually something insignificant, like the dust that has accumulated on the window blinds in the guest room.

Once I have spotted it, I can only let it go so long before it is all I can see when I enter the room, and I must…I mean MUST take action to remove it.

A sweep with a paper towel until I have done a sufficient job of annihilating the dirt accumulation. It’s like a drug. I feel a noticeable lightening….ahhh! What is my problem?!!

I wonder at my own obsession. I tell myself that others will experience this same uplifting effect that I do when there is less dust on the window shades.  I know its not true though.

At my own home, the hour I spent shining the floors, or vacuuming the couch cushions, or cleaning the smudges off the walls often goes unnoticed.

And while I’ll gripe that ‘No one is helping me!’, I also know that I would do it even if I was the only one that lived in the house.

Maybe it’s just that little bit of control that I can have over something in my world. Though it’s really a really poor choice  to try to control.

The dirt always comes back.

You might think that my house is spotless. You would be sadly disappointed. I can only do so much with 2 kids and a dog. Many battles I just have to accept losing. I don’t think I’ll ever change. I like things neat. But is it too much?

I think its really just a matter of perspective. Are my actions creating good or bad results? And how are these qualities affecting my own happiness?  Do I flip out if there are some toys on the floor? If so, I need to check myself.  

But if I keep things in perspective,  maybe it’s not such a bad quality. So I like things neat. Maybe my standards are ‘freakish’ by some people, but certainly not everyone.

And aren’t our ‘quirks’ what make us special? Why should I feel the need to do things the way someone else does? The measuring of myself against others only ever serves to make me feel inadequate.

Whatever drives me to make sure the house is in order when we go to bed at night and before we leave each day, also allows myself and my family to live in a pleasant environment.

Every once in a while I might bemoan the fact that I’m sweeping the floor yet again, but usually….I don’t really mind.  And for whatever reason, it does bring me joy. There are really enough things in my life that cause me stress. I think I’ll let this one go.