I love order. I love organizing, cleaning, putting piles of things away, and right angles. Hardcore love on the right angles. From looking around my home right now, though, it'd be hard to see that. There are dishes on the counter, in the sink, the kitchen floor needs to be swept, and I won't even begin to describe the chaos that is the fridge, pantry, or state of our bedding. It's ok though, because what I love most about order, organizing, and cleaning is blitzing our house (apartment, really. But I call it a house sometimes. Freudian slip.). There's something about going rather haywire on a mess that eases tension and makes me feel copacetic.
If I had a therapist they would probably say I like to do that because it's something I have complete control over. I can't control the state of my job. I can't control the traffic on my commute into the city, or the fact that I have not and will not get a raise at work. I can't control the economy, or the weather (yet), or other peoples' minds (again, yet). So I clean.
And it makes things a little easier.
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