So I was going to come home and unfuck some things tonight, but then I remembered tonight was the celebration of a certain beloved bartender friend. So instead of heading home after work, I Sharpied on a celebratory moustache and biked 3 extra miles to the pub in question. I got home a bit after 3 a.m., which is my Reasonable Hour to go to bed, and grabbed a (slightly spiked) homemade fruit pop out of the fridge. The rum was not really detectable, but the pop was yummy. Whilst eating said pop, I dripped a couple of splashes of fruit juice on the floor. Instead of figuring “oh, that’ll be taken care of when the floors get cleaned next,” I made a note of the drips, finished my pop, grabbed a damp paper towel and cleaned up the damn drips. In the process, I noticed a few other spots that needed touching up on the floor, and a stray leaf, so I took care of those things.
I’m noticing things. Spots on the cabinets that need a quick rub with the Magic Eraser. Teabag pouches that need to be tossed out. It’s like my OCD responses to Flatware Being Put Away Incorrectly and Drawers/Cabinets Left Open and Toothpaste Tubes Left UnFuckingCapped Goddammit Dave are now applying to things that normal people would notice, like … oh, fucking trash lying around and spill spots on the tile.
All because of some irreverent tumblr blog finally getting it through my head that letting things build up and then dealing with them all at once is perhaps not the way to go about household maintenance.
My room is still a disaster. I still intend to make a dent in it this week. There is some post-potluck dish management remaining that was my top priority for tonight before I remembered it was Cabe’s Day. That might happen tomorrow before work, but I’m notoriously bad at waking up at a reasonable hour when the night before has not been a model of sobriety, so we shall see.
On the bright side, going out for Cabe’s Day meant I got to see Cabe for the first time in far too long, and also biked an extra five or six miles today — and extra cycling is one of my top techniques for unfucking my life right now, so. Yay.
The Sharpie moustache was pretty successful.