If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. You could also get new content delivered directly to your inbox. Thanks for stopping by!
When the revolution comes, I’ll have the cleanest house in the country.
Because, you see, when I get stressed out, I clean. And things have been a tiny wee little bit stressful here lately.
Before he left, the house existed in a state of dusty equilibrium. Sure, I did the basic cleaning chores, but to endeavor any more thorough feats of cleanliness seemed ill-advised if not downright pointless.
But now he’s gone. His departure stirred up a whole lotta crap, you know what I’m saying? Items that hadn’t seen daylight in years suddenly earned their release from musty boxes or dark corners. They came out puffing with layers of accumulated grime and the occasional disgruntled spider.
Closets, drawers and entire rooms had their quietus unmade by our rummaging. Boxes were opened that—damn it all—cannot now be closed again.
So I clean. I have the illogical urge to clean every shred of my soon to be ex-husband from every surface in the house. I want every trace of him gone. I want each of his possessions to be out. I want even the very last molecule of oxygen that once passed through his blood to be released from this dwelling.
This is an unreasonable impulse I know.
And yet I continue to clean. Every newly-cleaned space suggests another place which must be redded. I clean a bedroom and then the bathroom needs attention. I clean the bathroom and then the closet demands attention.
It’s not that big of a house. Soon the cleaning phase will be over, I’m sure.
And I’m equally sure that the stb-ex is also noticing some of these same things: A new place without traces of me. An atmosphere in which he breathes nothing that once was part of me. A space without my irritating influence. He must be enjoying it. I hope he is.
Ah, there’s altogether too much talk about cleaning around here lately. But surely you know I’m not talking only about dusting, running the vacuum and moving things around, right?

Monet Lingerie, Sexy Lingerie and Stiletto Heels
