I've been living in squalor for quite some time now. It's a combination of things. Partly the frat boys that I wrote about before, but mostly I just haven't been feeling too chipper lately, and the weight of that has effectively squashed any impetus I might have had toward housework. Ergo, squalor.
It has gotten pretty bad. So bad that I won't give details because some of our more sensitive IR's might be eating or something. This week someone challenged me to clean it. He, like everyone else that I know, assumes that it is not as bad as I say it is. So he suggested that I clean it before breakfast. I was like, um, I'd like to eat this weekend, so let's not do that. And we laughed...one of us with considerably more mirth than the other. Anyway, he pointed out that if other humans came to my abode, I would clean it for them, and that really it was therefore very insulting to me that I hadn't cleaned it for myself. True enough.
So yesterday I woke up and ate breakfast (because after all, I'm not a savage, and a leisurely breakfast is one of the best things about weekends) and started to clean. It's been 31 hours and I am still cleaning. It looks a lot better, don't get me wrong. But I still wouldn't let another human come in the front door. At least if I died, my last thought wouldn't be how embarrassing it would be when someone came into my apartment and discovered the absolute nadir of neglect that has been my natural state for about 8 months. So, you know, that's an improvement.
I do feel a lot better--it's great to be able to walk anywhere on the floor (well, anywhere that isn't occupied by a legitimate piece of furniture) and it is very, very nice to have clean bathrooms, clean linens, and a veritable cornucopia of clothes to choose from for Monday morning. But I still have a lot to do.
I only mention it because as I scrubbed the bathroom vanity I got a total flash of American Beauty. Despite his condition at the end of the movie, I'd rather be Lester than anyone else in the movie...although being the hot cheerleader would have its upside. Nobody--and I mean nobody--wants to be Carolyn. But ladies, I dare you, go clean a bathroom vanity in your bra and whatever you do, don't catch a glimpse of yourself and think "I will sell this house today."