Today, it was really important to me to clean my apartment. My girlfriend helped. She’s much more efficient than I am. Getting the space clean had to happen.
I think it’s because my physical space reflects my mental space. For the last week or so, I’ve just been leaving things where they are. Boxes, dishes, wrappers, clothes, all of it just stayed where it was until it was in the way. I didn’t have the mental capacity to make sense of it all. I was having trouble getting up to get to work. I missed several of my morning pages.
Missing the pages wouldn’t have been so much of an issue except that is when I have my morning coffee. Because I was waking up later, I didn’t have enough time for a coffee in the morning. My lunches, too, suffered. I made the filling for tuna sandwiches one morning but didn’t have bread and forgot to take a sleeve of crackers. I ate it with a cucumber I cut into slices with a butter knife, using the lid of the tupperware as a cutting board.
By now, I should be more aware of the impact that my physical space has on my psyche. When things are in order, I feel better. In disarray, I’m scattered. When I start thinking and get focussed on an idea, it’s near impossible for me to keep things in line. The same is true when I’m fatigued. Finding the motivation to clean is difficult when I’m sleeping on the couch after work.
Today, my apartment is a bit cleaner. I still need to get into a few more places. I want to do a real good clean of the space, the baseboards, windows, and underneath the fridge and stove, too. Making sense of my space will, I think, help me set myself up to focus and think, thereby enabling me to make a mess of things again.