I got a new sink yesterday. It was sort of by accident. I tried to wash a bib in my bathroom sink, but the bib was covered with banana bits, which clogged the sink. I used drano to clear the clog. Then, the sink just broke. I’d show you a photo, but it was all really gross. The handyman actually found pebbles in the drain when he came to fix it. How pebbles ended up in my drain, I’ll never know.
But I ended up with this snazzy new sink:
Just be glad it’s not a picture of my baby.
The new sink inspired me to deep clean the whole bathroom. And then I started cleaning the rest of the apartment. But I didn’t finish, because I never finish.
It’s a constant struggle for me: to clean or not to clean. Don’t get me wrong, I like living in a clean space. A cluttered home is a cluttered mind; kinda – you can always just leave the house and find a better place to focus. My problem is that I could die tomorrow, and I don’t want to have spent the last day of my life cleaning.
There are just so many better things I can do.
This guy gets me. As someone who works from home twice a week, I find myself feeling guilty at the end of those days when my apartment is still a mess.
When I take breaks, I read to my kid. I sing “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” to him because that’s his latest favorite. I pick him up and play “Superbaby” with him. I tickle him and pretend to eat him.
I don’t do the dishes, even though I know I really should. I just don’t care enough.
Even before I had Max, it always made sense to me to do everything but clean. I definitely got some complaints from my college roommates about it. I took classes, worked three jobs, and I’d say “I don’t have time to clean.” But I found time to party and volunteer. I found time to take trips to New York and Sacramento. I found time to play Scrabble, get drunk, talk on the phone, throw Alice in Wonderland-themed parties, go on hikes, meet new people, read fiction, hang out at Starbucks, sing karaoke, watch hours of Law and Order, write letters to the editor, attend concerts, meet celebrities, and make scrapbooks.
I just didn’t have time to clean.
I think I’m finding more balance lately. Sometimes, when Max naps, I throw out the trash and stuff. But usually, I use that time to dance around my apartment.
I’ve also found myself avoiding the news lately. So many terrible things seem to be happening in the world, and it makes me feel so helpless. With planes being shot down and executions being dragged out and everything else happening, I just want to retreat into a place where the biggest challenge is whether or not you should give a mouse a cookie.
I’m going to resist the urge to close this post out with totally adorable photos of my son covered in banana (your loss) and instead close out with the non-baby-related highlight of my week:
That one really got me in the feels. (The fundraiser feels; I keep them separate from my other feels.)