Half-assed Housework

a woman using a vacuum cleaner

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?


Is that ok?


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