When I was married and keeping house for "a family," I spent up to 5 hours every weekend dusting and scrubbing, vacuuming, doing laundry and on and on and on. It was often a point of contention in the marriage, as no doubt it is in many marriages, how much time I spent on these drudge jobs vs. how much time my ex spent on them, and the relative value weight of yardwork vs. housework.
Since I've become single again, with no one but myself and my son to please... I've degenerated into a complete and utter slob.
Sadly, I think this must be Authentic.
My car is full of gum wrappers, empty soda bottles, crumpled receipts and crumbs. My kitchen sink is always piled with dishes. My coffee table is a jungle of random objects and sticky substances. Lets not even talk about my carpet.
My response to this?
"Wow, someone should really clean this mess up." And then I go out and putter in the garden, or put my feet up and read a book or something else that doesn't help the situation at all. Often I'm not even really aware of the disastrous nature of my housekeeping until I'm going to have visitors and I suddenly am able to see the place through their eyes. Good God, is that really my bra on top of the TV?
I wasn't always this way. I vaguely remember once keeping a fairly tidy office and working hard to keep dust bunnies from achieving sentience on the stairs, but something has changed. I now have no one to blame but myself. And as it is my own mess and my own decision not to tidy it, I'm not angry about it. Something about removing that third person - the one who is NOT doing the scrubbing and sweeping - has freed me from the whole cycle and removed the source of resentment. I don't mind things not getting done, I only mind when there's only one person not doing them.
By the way, I do all the yard work, too and no, it's not equal to housekeeping.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I never clean, or even that I don't wish I was tidier, I'm just observing the phenomenon. Authentic Me is not concerned about a messy house, and can live in congenial peace and harmony with a certain amount of chaos.
I read somewhere that creative people thrive on chaos, and that chaos is essential to the dynamic creative process. The universe itself was formed from the chaos of the Big Bang and the random collision of materials that ensued. Chaos Theory has to do with discovering the order that underlies huge and seemingly random patterns... which is kind of what I'm trying to do with my life. A tiny change at the outset can cause completely and wildly different outcomes: the flapping of a butterfly's wings in North Dakota resulting in typhoons in Thailand.
In more concrete terms, it means that – at least for now – for this stage of my life - I'm not completely in control. Cosmic butterflies are flapping their wings. I like to tell myself that means I'm "Open to the Universe," inviting creativity, opportunity and abundance. Or I'm just a slob. Who knows?
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