and once more, darkness, it descends
Aug. 22nd, 2012 03:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intaglioIf I can just get a driver's license.
That was the crowning thought, last time, of the prior draft. And wow, rather than take the time to deal with this, to write at length about anything I feel or am going through, I did a touch of design work essentially devoted to making my desktop as drab as possible--though I was just struck with some wonderful inspiration that should liven it considerably; yes, that works nicely.
Bathroom's done. I've gone from having knock-down, drag-out scream 'n' slap matches with my mom over housework to getting compliments. You don't understand; she doesn't compliment anyone. She prides herself on tellin' it like it is, which usually means being sarcastic.
(If it sounds like all I do is rag on her, just guess what I never actually get to do IRL. I've lived with my parents well into adulthood. Try being treated like a teenager for sixteen years, and then we'll talk maturity and self-restraint.)
Still terrified to look at job prospects and driving prospects, but I've finally got my house under control, and I never once thought that was possible.
I hate cleaning, and I'm from a family that hates cleaning, and it shows. I'm saying this because, guess what?
With very, very few exceptions, no one wants to live in dirt. Nobody is really attuned that way. Some people have health problems, or cognitive or emotional health problems, that make cleaning extremely fucking difficult.
Like, I am not ragging on those people at all. God knows. Knowing your limits and how to live with them is the hardest part of, well, living.
I think a lot of us just--don't know how clean. I mean, we don't know to do it right. We never actually had someone tell us the steps, just the consequences of what would happen if we failed, and how disappointed they were when we did, and how we're lazy, no good, worthless, immature, childish, or plain fucking stupid, all for not doing it right.
When no one ever taught us how.
Guys? This is how.
Seriously, just follow this and adapt it for every day instead of weekends.
I personally consider a day victorious if I get through the first four:
Bed Made and/or Sheets Off! I used to never make my bed. Ever. I would only wash my sheets at either disgusting hobo intervals, or when my dog finally peed on them in desperation--probably because they were so full of nasty hobo stank.
Now, I make my bed every single day. I usually don't do it when I wake up, but it gets done. First step. It is seriously the alpha and omega. I usually spend the rest of this 20/10 cleaning the bedroom, too. I do this instead of the kitchen, as indicated, because hey, I'm already in the bedroom and already in Unfucking Mode, so why waste the groove?
HONOR THE TEN MINUTE SABBATH, AND KEEP IT HOLY. It's basically free computer time, which I find easier to score earlier in the day.
Dishes! Ah, the eternal struggle. Actually, if you can just do these first two steps for like, four days in a row? You should come upon like a couple of plates and some mugs, tops. You will be amazed what twenty whole minutes focusing on just one room/area will do.
THIS MEANS IF YOU HAVE SHIT LAYING AROUND THAT NEEDS TO GO TO THE LIVING ROOM, OR WHATEVER, PUT IT IN A PILE AND RETURN TO THE KITCHEN. Like, when it is those twenty minutes, clean that area.
The results are worth it, my hand to god. I am able to pick up behind three very messy people (including myself) in less than two hours a day because of this process.
Because unlike everything else? This shit works. I'm serious.
So far, I find that the only part of the kitchen that can suck is that others who are not busy unfucking their habitats tend to leave their dishes for you. That's what you get for living with your parents, kid. It's not a personal vendetta against you or your mission to clean. Consider it a challenge. LEVEL UP.
Bathroom! I used to never, as in literally never, clean the bathroom, unless there was actual human or animal shit smeared somewhere it should not be. 'Filthy' was easily a tactful understatement when it came to this area of the house. And my bathroom is also the guest bath. Pretty sure you can just imagine the kinds of fights this used to cause.
Just. Get some gloves. Suck it up and follow the instructions.
You can do anything for twenty minutes. And the results will astound you. I promise.
The two biggest tips here that helped the most, especially with the super-gross initial unfucking?
1) LET STUFF SOAK. This means: fill the bathtub with cleaner (I used leftover Dawn dish soap, the first time, then rinsed it and blasted it with Pine Sol and water), fill the toilet with cleaner, and put some Pine Sol in the sink.
Not only will it make the nastiest room in the house suddenly smell amazing, letting the cleaner actually soak for the full twenty minutes, or even just for ten minutes, cuts the required elbow grease in half.
Yes, really. Even on the most jaw-droppingly disgusting jobs.
2) USE HOT WATER. See the stuff about soaking. If it's too hot to touch, let it sit for your twenty, while doing laundry instead, take a ten-minute break, and then come back. If the water is still too hot to touch half an hour later? LET SOME OF IT OUT and put in some cold, goddamn.
And, finally:
Laundry! Oh, god, laundry for three. Here is probably the area where I've had the biggest results, just because the twenty-minute task blocks sort of just. Naturally remind me to actually check (and fold and put away) the laundry that I wash.
I have succeeded at the laundry so well that it's gone from ~The Big Stank Laundry Mountain~ to a tiny little hill of socks that mostly match. And that's in twenty minutes a day.
Like I said. I may not have control of my whole life--yet--but I have control of my house.
And I did it by myself, with no one helping me, like an actual adult. Not like playing one on TV. Not like adult but living with parents and still getting in bitchfights with mommy about it.
Sorry, Mario. Your princess already conquered the fucking castle.
That was the crowning thought, last time, of the prior draft. And wow, rather than take the time to deal with this, to write at length about anything I feel or am going through, I did a touch of design work essentially devoted to making my desktop as drab as possible--though I was just struck with some wonderful inspiration that should liven it considerably; yes, that works nicely.
Bathroom's done. I've gone from having knock-down, drag-out scream 'n' slap matches with my mom over housework to getting compliments. You don't understand; she doesn't compliment anyone. She prides herself on tellin' it like it is, which usually means being sarcastic.
(If it sounds like all I do is rag on her, just guess what I never actually get to do IRL. I've lived with my parents well into adulthood. Try being treated like a teenager for sixteen years, and then we'll talk maturity and self-restraint.)
Still terrified to look at job prospects and driving prospects, but I've finally got my house under control, and I never once thought that was possible.
I hate cleaning, and I'm from a family that hates cleaning, and it shows. I'm saying this because, guess what?
With very, very few exceptions, no one wants to live in dirt. Nobody is really attuned that way. Some people have health problems, or cognitive or emotional health problems, that make cleaning extremely fucking difficult.
Like, I am not ragging on those people at all. God knows. Knowing your limits and how to live with them is the hardest part of, well, living.
I think a lot of us just--don't know how clean. I mean, we don't know to do it right. We never actually had someone tell us the steps, just the consequences of what would happen if we failed, and how disappointed they were when we did, and how we're lazy, no good, worthless, immature, childish, or plain fucking stupid, all for not doing it right.
When no one ever taught us how.
Guys? This is how.
Seriously, just follow this and adapt it for every day instead of weekends.
I personally consider a day victorious if I get through the first four:
Bed Made and/or Sheets Off! I used to never make my bed. Ever. I would only wash my sheets at either disgusting hobo intervals, or when my dog finally peed on them in desperation--probably because they were so full of nasty hobo stank.
Now, I make my bed every single day. I usually don't do it when I wake up, but it gets done. First step. It is seriously the alpha and omega. I usually spend the rest of this 20/10 cleaning the bedroom, too. I do this instead of the kitchen, as indicated, because hey, I'm already in the bedroom and already in Unfucking Mode, so why waste the groove?
HONOR THE TEN MINUTE SABBATH, AND KEEP IT HOLY. It's basically free computer time, which I find easier to score earlier in the day.
Dishes! Ah, the eternal struggle. Actually, if you can just do these first two steps for like, four days in a row? You should come upon like a couple of plates and some mugs, tops. You will be amazed what twenty whole minutes focusing on just one room/area will do.
THIS MEANS IF YOU HAVE SHIT LAYING AROUND THAT NEEDS TO GO TO THE LIVING ROOM, OR WHATEVER, PUT IT IN A PILE AND RETURN TO THE KITCHEN. Like, when it is those twenty minutes, clean that area.
The results are worth it, my hand to god. I am able to pick up behind three very messy people (including myself) in less than two hours a day because of this process.
Because unlike everything else? This shit works. I'm serious.
So far, I find that the only part of the kitchen that can suck is that others who are not busy unfucking their habitats tend to leave their dishes for you. That's what you get for living with your parents, kid. It's not a personal vendetta against you or your mission to clean. Consider it a challenge. LEVEL UP.
Bathroom! I used to never, as in literally never, clean the bathroom, unless there was actual human or animal shit smeared somewhere it should not be. 'Filthy' was easily a tactful understatement when it came to this area of the house. And my bathroom is also the guest bath. Pretty sure you can just imagine the kinds of fights this used to cause.
Just. Get some gloves. Suck it up and follow the instructions.
You can do anything for twenty minutes. And the results will astound you. I promise.
The two biggest tips here that helped the most, especially with the super-gross initial unfucking?
1) LET STUFF SOAK. This means: fill the bathtub with cleaner (I used leftover Dawn dish soap, the first time, then rinsed it and blasted it with Pine Sol and water), fill the toilet with cleaner, and put some Pine Sol in the sink.
Not only will it make the nastiest room in the house suddenly smell amazing, letting the cleaner actually soak for the full twenty minutes, or even just for ten minutes, cuts the required elbow grease in half.
Yes, really. Even on the most jaw-droppingly disgusting jobs.
2) USE HOT WATER. See the stuff about soaking. If it's too hot to touch, let it sit for your twenty, while doing laundry instead, take a ten-minute break, and then come back. If the water is still too hot to touch half an hour later? LET SOME OF IT OUT and put in some cold, goddamn.
And, finally:
Laundry! Oh, god, laundry for three. Here is probably the area where I've had the biggest results, just because the twenty-minute task blocks sort of just. Naturally remind me to actually check (and fold and put away) the laundry that I wash.
I have succeeded at the laundry so well that it's gone from ~The Big Stank Laundry Mountain~ to a tiny little hill of socks that mostly match. And that's in twenty minutes a day.
Like I said. I may not have control of my whole life--yet--but I have control of my house.
And I did it by myself, with no one helping me, like an actual adult. Not like playing one on TV. Not like adult but living with parents and still getting in bitchfights with mommy about it.
Sorry, Mario. Your princess already conquered the fucking castle.
