So, last night I was tired. Not the most tired I’ve ever been, but tired. And somewhat cranky. It’s been a long stressful week, and yeah.
So I made a relatively healthy dinner of chicken, veggies, and multi-grain chips (the chips were my sop for the kids, I really needed to cut down on complaining), and then I looked at the dishes…
and I looked…
and I thought, well, so what if I don’t do them? Who’s it really gonna hurt anyway?
And I looked at them again.
And I said to myself, “well, at least load the dishwasher. That’ll only take a few mintues and then that’s at least most of them, right? Better than nothing.”
So, I loaded the dishwasher. And there were only four dishes left. A pan, a pot, a cutting board, and a big mixing bowl.
And I was like, ok, well I can leave those for tomorrow, that’s not much.
But… that little voice in my head, the one that sounds an awful lot like what I imagine the UfYH lady sounds like started in…
“Really? REALLY? Four dishes, and you can’t just take care of them?”
“But, I’m tiiiiiirrrreeed….” I whined (in my head).
And then there was a new voice… because I recently started following a blog called Adulting, and I read the “Harden the Fuck Up” post.
“You are tired. But you are not incapable of doing this. Harden the fuck up, be an adult, and wash your damn dishes.” I don’t know if that’s what the Adulting lady really sounds like, but what the hell, it worked.
Five minutes later, the dishes are done, and two minutes after that I was in my jammies and ready for bed.
Adulting really is awesome.
What with my moving from being a telecommuter to having to commute for (nearly) an hour each way, my apartment had seriously gotten out of hand.
Last night, I decided to go through and clean the heck out of it! I went with the UFYH 20/10 method. I stopped counting at 12. I suppose this could count as a marathon, but I was also considering it my exercise for the day.
Follow Jack for the ugly befores and beautiful afters*
I went through SO MANY paper towels dealing with these shelves, and worse, the space under the crisper drawers, which was replete with slimy water and deceased gnats. Note to self — remove crisper drawers more often. And no, I’ve never really quite figured out how the gnats get in the fridge. I guess I should unfuck the exterior of the fridge next; with the surrounding space straightened up, that level of chaos really jumps out.
Since Monday night, I have unfucked my living room/kitchen, utility room[1], cabinet of Too Many Containers, and refrigerator. Tonight, I am taking a break from the great unfuckening to celebrate IPA Day and sing karaoke! (But … I might still have to unfuck something when I get home. Because YOU GUYS, my house is getting seriously liveable!)
[1]A work in progress, admittedly, but it’s way less fucked than it was.
You have the best before and after pictures!
I’m devoting my first hour at home after work every day to tackling a section. I discovered I can get a lot done in an hour. (And really, only forty minutes, because I’ll do twenty minutes, break for ten, twenty minutes, break for ten, and go on my merry way a la UfYH.) Yesterday was the kitchen.
Fortunately I live in a studio apartment, which means that messes look much bigger than they are in reality. I finished up the dishes in the sink that I’d left hanging around after my attempt at washing over the weekend. I wiped down the countertop and put my spices back on their little flat spinny thing (WHAT ON EARTH IS IT CALLED IT’S LIKE A CIRCLE AND IT SPINS IN PLACE I JUST GOOGLED AND COULDN’T COME UP WITH THE CORRECT THING) and even baking-soda-vinegared my cutting board and steam-cleaned out the microwave. All of that in forty minutes. That corner of the place looks so drastically different that it’s kind of inspiring.
So what next? Well, the company that services my complex’s laundry machines is currently repairing the machine that loads money onto our laundry cards, so I have to wait on washing. But in the meantime I know I can hang up the stuff that’s all draped over the couch and put dirty clothes in the basket. I think that can conceivably be done in forty minutes, along with the regular maintenance that NEEDS to be done, like scooping the litterbox and taking out the trash.
CAN I GET A CELEBRATORY GIF UP IN HERE?
(I think you’re looking for “lazy Susan.”)
unpocalypse Asks:
unfuckyourhabitat Said:
Go visit Adulting and spend some time in the archives.
The Unfucking, Part I: The Living Room
Week before last I came down with a touch (hint: full on fever chills sleeping 21 hours a day flu, rargh) of the plague, and allowed my house to get fucked. This weekend is all about recovery from the fucking, and seeing the Avengers again, and reading fic on my kindle in the park by the lake.
But first, the unfucking:
Bag of used tissues from the week I spent on my sofa watching all of Seasons 1 and 2 of due South? Check. Half the dishes I own, all in various states of plagueyness? Check. White Castle bag that never made it home? Check. Blanket comma unfolded? Check.
That is a sparkly shark sticker on my laptop, yes. That is a batman glass, yes.
Papasan chairs are stuff-magnets, for really real. The bags of laundry I washed when I was *just* beginning to feel plaguey, and never made it to the hanging bins in the closet, or even my bedroom, due to bringing them back up and collapsing in a heap on the sofa, announcing, “GOOD ENOUGH.”
The sad thing is that I got the plague in the middle of unfucking: I did half my dishes and got the living and bedroom tidy enough to show to Coworker AR+Spouse Creature, whose vacuum cleaner and other household gear I inherited after their wedding this past April! The next day I was laid out, and the next two weeks I was either too sick to clean or too ‘hanging out in my friend’s air-conditioned house because it is hot’ to be physically present to clean. SADS.
So here’s the thing: Since I no longer have an awesome kitchen or infinite resources of time and money, writing has become my primary creative outlet. I don’t post a lot … nowhere near as much as I did back in 2009/2010, but I do create things with words, and I can’t create things with words when my habitat is fucked. I’ve tried. It doesn’t happen, because I look at the open word processing window and all I see is the bag of used tissues and the pile of stuff that should live in my messenger bag and oh hey that’s where my wallet went, I’d wondered, and I wonder if I have any clean mugs left? Probably not, but I loathe dishes D:
And then this morning I unfucked right and proper.
I rearranged the furniture so that my sofa is facing the kitchen, so that I HAVE to look at it and that way will maybe be more likely to MAINTAIN CLEANLINESS. Maybe. We’ll see.
Unfucking and rearranging the entire living room took a grand total of MAYBE 45 minutes … two 20-10s and change.
I also started in on the dishes: pots and pans first because I hate them, cups and glasses next because they are bulky, plates and bowls next because they stacked neatly, food storage containers last because I hate them more than the pots and pans (I KNOW). I went through 3/4 of a box of baking soda and half a bottle of dish soap.
Pics for that to come tomorrow because I still have to wash the silverware and one! last! glass! (in which the silverware is soaking), and I feel good about calling it a day with what I’ve done so far. And I have the smelly remains of two-week-old chicken stock in a lidded stock pot to contend with (such a bad plan), before I can even think about unfucking my stovetop.
But there ARE before pictures and the kitchen is presently 1000% more awesome than it was 12 hours ago and I am calling today a win.
I mean, I physically did the cleaning and the studying, but social media provoked it.
May marks the 1 year anniversary of me being shoved out of my cozy dorm and into adulthood. As a whole, being a grown-up isn’t too bad. I really love having my own place and being able to take care of myself. But with no one around to give me a kick in the ass, some of my habits fall by the wayside. Other times I just don’t know something about being an adult that should be pretty straight forward. So I struggle sometimes.
Enter my saviors. The blogs Adulting and Unfuck Your Habitat have started to teach me how to be a big girl and get shit done. Today I was so responsible and productive that I annoyed myself.
I have a final exam (hopefully my final final) on Monday, and a ridiculously messy apartment that has been bugging me. My kitchen has been better since adulting posted Step 192, but the rest of the place is like an episode of Hoarders. Well, maybe not that bad, but it feels like it to me. So, my original recipe plan was to ignore my mess until next weekend, and then turbo-clean everything in sight, which would effectively exhaust me, and spend this whole weekend studying for my outrageously difficult final exam. And then I woke up this morning at 11:00 am, and felt like doing absolutely nothing. So, until about 1:30 PM I stayed in my pajamas on the couch, reading tumblr. Not good when you have a crucial final in a day and half. During my journey through tumblr, UfYH posted like a million different things I could be doing to better my living conditions. And I thought, I bet there are people in the world right now who read these steps and actually follow through with them. They are so much better than me. I am such a fuck up. So, I got up off my ass, brushed my teeth, put on real pants, and went to Dunkin’ Donuts for caffeine.
By 2 PM I was home, getting caffeinated, and ready to try UfYH’s 20/10 plan, where I would study for 20 minutes, then do something else for 10 minutes, and repeat. I got out my piggy timer and set to work. After the 20 minutes was up I decided 20 minutes was not long enough to get a good flow of work going, so I changed it to 45/15. When 45 min. was up I got up and did something really crazy.
I made my bed.
I really can’t remember the last time that happened.
And then I kept cleaning up my bedroom. I put shoes in the closet, hung up my jackets.
15 minutes of cleaning later, I went back to studying for 45 minutes.
And then I used my 15 minute break to make this happen:
^That became this:
Bitch is even polished. Do you see the shine??
My day went on and on like this until 9:30 tonight, when the sound of this little guy ticking for 7.5 hours made me borderline suicidal:
So, today I cleaned the majority of my apartment and got 85% of the way through an entire semester-long study-guide (which is now at an intimidating 45 pages).
And this was just one day!
Holy productivity, Batman!
Thank you.
And fuck you.
1st) Thank you. Thank you so much. Between the two of you, you are turning me, a 27-year-old woman who deals with multiple mental issues into a bona-fide adult.
2nd) Fuck you - THIS IS HARD! But I mean that “fuck you” in the most loving way possible.
Between the two of you, you have taught me:
- That I am not alone
- That is Is Going To Be Alright
- That I don’t have to get everything right - progress, not perfection, right?
- How to make my depression AND anxiety a little more manageable (one step, one MINUTE at a time - but I. Can. Do. This.)
- That it won’t kill me to put dishes in the dishwasher, or empty said dishwasher, or wash the dishes in the sink! That, in fact, it will only take me about 5 minutes to do each of the listed actions!
- That it won’t kill me to clean my bathroom counter
- That it’s fun to see dirty things get clean
- The amazingness that is a Magic Eraser, that is vinegar, and that is baking soda
- My credit score (omgah this one is scary)
- That Mint.com is a wonderful thing
- That it’s a good idea to put clothes away as soon as the dryer is done
- That I really CAN do almost anything for 15-20 minutes at a time
- That I am, in fact, mostly an adult.
So, from the adult-brain me, from my parents, from my employer, loan holders, boyfriend, and everyone who wants me to be a healthy mostly-adult: thank you
And from the irresponsible child-brain stuck in depression and anxiety: fuck you. You’re making this part of my brain smaller and far less effective than it has been in the past.
And for that I love you.
