See, order is very important to me. I understand that disorder happens, as a matter of course, and I accept it as part of life, even encourage it when it contributes to some creative end, but ultimately, I want everything to be tidied up at the end of the day.
To be clear, I’m not talking about eat-off-the-floor cleanliness, or even everything in its proper place. It’s more a general sense that things are functional, that there’s a place to set down the groceries in the kitchen, a place to put them in the fridge or in the cabinets. I can cook without spilling someone’s ancient moldy beverage and without dripping on someone else’s art project left to dry three weeks ago and forgotten.
When things get too chaotic, I get anxious. One thing that always helps me when I feel sad or upset or confused is cleaning. Crossword puzzles and sudoku have the same effect: once everything is tidily stored in the little boxes, all is well.
Today I need to clean something.