I stopped all unfucking of the apartment for about a month because of reasons. A dear friend of mine has asked to stay with me while in NYC this week, so that kicked my ass into gear again (which is a double cause for celebration)!
Yesterday, I swept and vacuumed all the floor surfaces (which took about an hour — I think I need to move into a smaller apartment), took out all trash and recycling, put all the dirty clothings in the hamper, and I finally cleaned my room. Changed the sheets, made the bed, tucking the bottom corners of the top sheet and quilt under the mattress, which keeps everything in place.
When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t sure if I would get back into bed. I left the bed unmade. I went about my morning routine, but in the back of mind I kept thinking: My room is so clean after all this time… why is the bed unmade? WHY IS THE BED UNMADE? (Mind you, I keep the door closed to keep out my cats so it’s not like I was walking past the unmade bed at all, and yet the image of my unmade bed in my newly-neat room kept haranguing me in my mind’s eye.) So, yeah, I made the fucking bed even though I pretty much won’t be in my bedroom until bedtime.
Today, I need to clean the kitchen and do laundry.