I do not like cleaning. I don’t despise it with the passion that I use to, and I recognize that there are times that I use it as an outlet when there is too much emotion that cannot safely get out otherwise.
But overall, so rather be doing other things. There was a time when I thought that cleaning was rather pointless. I remember countless arguments with my mother about how I “knew” where everything was even tho it was all strewn about the floor. This could be traced partly to my rebellion against my OCD manic mother, who sees imaginary dust bunnies on her sterile floor.
Then through circumstances I found myself living with another person. He happens to be a tidy person. Everything in it’s place and a place for everything. We have gotten into many arguments on the topic and over the course of our 7 year relationship I have come a long way from my carving out a path on the floor to walk days.
In fact I don’t like it when the house is dirty and thrashed anymore than he does these days. For different reasons, and I still struggle with the will power to actually just CLEAN instead of ignoring the mess.
For him and for my mother it’s about keeping up appearances. What if someone stops by? Gods forbid they see dishes in the sink. Granted my mother is FAR more obsessive about this and it plays into her deeper want to be liked and normal and all that. But really I could give to saggy testicles about what the neighbors think, or if someone I know stops by unannounced and the place isn’t clean.
For me it’s become a two part issue. One is that living in the city, this place gets energetically filled with crap way more often. There just isn’t a whole lot of space between our door and the Crazy of the City to lose a majority of gunk and whatever that is constantly bumbling around out there. My once yearly house cleansing and ward tendings have become monthly, or more depending. No matter how good you are, you CANNOT properly cleanse and fortify wards in a dirty house. Just not possible, you’ll always get crappy results. So on that level I’ve had to up my game on cleaning the corners and other bits of the house more.
The second part of it is that my home is my sanctuary. I want to feel safe here, I want to be able to do whatever it is I want to do. There are some really powerful deities and energies that are welcome here at anytime, who’s going to show up to a place that is messy and unkept? More over I’ve become more and more aware of and in touch with the local spirits, the house itself, all the wee beasties that reside in it and around it. They are my responsibility, I’ve been granted stewardship of this piece of land. They need care, they feel respected in a clean house.
I’m not perfect at it. My house is not ever going to be the kind that is spotless and ready for the President to show up at any given time. I need to find a way to motivate myself into doing the things that need be done on a daily basis better. I do need to step up my game. But overall I gotta say, stepping back looking at the big picture of my personal habits. I’ve come a long way, and I’m proud of myself. I’ve reached a point of pride in my home, not for stupid societal reasons around needing to keep up with the Jones’s. I haven’t been enslaved into being a “housefrau” because I’m a woman and it’s “women’s work” (as I use to fear). It’s about ownership and responsibility. It’s about providing an atmosphere for the things I do best. I can get behind that.