Bedroom; check. Home office; check. Garage; facepalm.
Now I have one unfucked kitchen. I’m exhausted. Did some writing today during the endeavor which I will paste below.
Need to go unfuck myself now. AKA: take a shower.
Been cleaning for about 30 minutes or so. Just tackling one surface at a time. Taking a quick break to recompose. I might have drank too much coffee because I feel a bit jittery, but I’m sure the real culprit is the anxiety of going through this kitchen that probably hasn’t had a thorough cleaning in close to 16 years. I’m surrounded by the physical manifestation of depression. Nothing but old useless shit and rat turds as far as the eye can see.
Might have to drink a glass or two of wine tonight. I think I’ll have earned it.
Finished. Well, mostly. I still need to clean the inside of the fridge. However, I did empty all the drawers and cabinets, cleaned them with Pine Sol inside and out, and put everything back in. My uncle came home around 3:30 pm. Now here is where things get interesting.
I live with my dad and my uncle at the moment. When my uncle got home, he thanked me for cleaning, and immediately started helping me. We fixed a broken drawer that had been broken for at least 3 years. He actually thanked me several times and started sweeping up in the living room. Not just sweeping, but moving furniture, destroying dust bunnies with reckless abandon, and then “swiffering” the hard wood floor. He’s also taking another broken drawer with him to work tomorrow to get fixed. As I was cleaning each kitchen floor tile by hand, he went into the bathroom and started cleaning the shower, which I wish I would have got a picture of, but it’s probably better I didn’t. I just snapped a few pics mid-cleaning.
When pop got home, he made a couple comments as well. The first was, “Damn, I guess I need to clean my bedroom and my truck.” He added, “Mike is motivating us, isn’t he?” I haven’t said a word.
This is the point. This is the lesson I wish I would have learned years ago (much less in my last relationship): You can’t change anyone, you can only change those around you by changing yourself. Getting upset, getting angry, complaining… none of it does anything except breed more negativity and especially resentment. Once you work on yourself, the world reacts to that change accordingly. Fat Buddhist tested, Universe approved.
It would seem like I have recruited some help in tackling the garage. That’s going to take some time, though. Maybe this weekend? Not sure, but it’s still terrifying. In the words of Marlon Brando, “The Horror… The Horror…”
Ok. In the last photo I had an idea. My dad decided he would model for me as I took the picture. I’m at a loss to describe how much the photo means to me. After looking at it, he gave himself the moniker, The Sheetrock Buddhist.
I like it.