Radiogurl a la Carte

Coming Clean

With Turkey Day a little over a week away, I had one of the most outlandish ideas you can possibly imagine.

I decided to get domestic.

Okay, so maybe not domestic in a Martha Stewart, so-perfect-I-had-to-have-sold-my-soul way, but for me - bad enough. I cleaned house, even cleaned out my kitchen cabinets and my closet. And yes, it was as frightening as it sounds.

At work, I am more or less neat. I don't have time to be genuinely picky, but I try not to let things get too far out of hand. I have significant stories saved in hard copy (backup for the computer record) and filed away in alpha order, keep my desktop organized, have my pens and pencils corralled in a holder for that purpose, and notes in a stack to one side.

However, since no one on line has been to my house, I will tell you. At home, I am a bona-fide slob. I've worked long and hard to be this bad and I am extremely good at it. I'm not talking about a health risk. Even I have my limits. Nothing grows under my bed or desk (though I won't vouch for the refrigerator). But if the bed doesn't get made, I'm not going to break speed limits to come home and make it - even if it hasn't been made for a week at a time. And the laundry gets washed at least once every six weeks or so, whether it needs it or not. My mom rarely came over when she was alive, and when she did, she generally ended up cleaning. She was the perfect housekeeper - not a speck of dust or a grain of sand anywhere. My dad is even worse. He's the most anal-retentive man I've ever known about housekeeping. So I figure I'm adopted, because I obviously didn't get the clean gene from either parent.

I am currently living in an apartment that's just about big enough if you're a gnat or a flea. I have one drawer and one kitchen cabinet. I had to buy two sets of standalone shelving just to have enough space to put away my dishes and groceries for one person - me. Given how rarely I eat at home, that's saying a lot. And my closet - now that was scary. I have boxes and bags, clothes, electronic gadgetry and cords and whatnot, overflowing from my only real storage area. I had about 6" between my bed and the boxes sticking out of it, and that was on the spacious side.

Not sure what finally got to me. Maybe it was the fact that I just washed clothes and put them away and still was wearing mismatched everything, simply because I couldn't reach past the boxes to get to the things that were hanging up. Maybe it was the fact that said boxes were stacked to the height and angle of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Maybe it was the fact that even the roaches were complaining about the mess.

Whatever it was, I tore through like a madwoman, and the place is spotless, or nearly so. There is one little area I haven't tackled yet, because it's the worst of all. It's my computer desk.

Let's see... It's close to Thanksgiving, but nobody's going to see the computer desk. I figure it will hold until Christmas of 2005 or thereabouts, don't you?

Before - After

In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )