I don’t love cleaning my house.
But I do love to live in a clean house.
That’s the conundrum.
I want a clean house and I don’t want to clean it.
But one day, I realized something.
I was making it worse by thinking “My house is a mess.”
When I think: “My house is a mess,” I feel overwhelmed. I avoid my house. I eat out. I stay in my office where it’s usually tidy. And I don’t do anything to fix it.
Because, when I’m overwhelmed, I can’t do anything.
So I started practicing this thought. “I have a house.”
Could I have thought: “My house is clean?” Sure. But that’s too much of a stretch for me to believe.
So. I have a house.
And my house has one pair of socks on the floor, four spoons and three bowls in the sink, and laundry that is unfolded on my bed.
I do this because it centers me to get really, really factual.
There’s no such thing as a clean house. Like, “clean” by who’s definition?
So, there’s also no such thing as a messy one.
I simply have a house with some items placed where I don’t want them.
And when I think that thought, it’s not as overwhelming, and I can pick off a few tasks.
Is it going to look like a professional cleaner spent the day working on my house?
Nope.
Is that ok?
Yes.