Homebody

I know there are people out there who like cleaning. My step-father, for one, is someone who, when given free time, willingly and joyfully finds something to tidy.

I am not so lucky. Years ago my mother told me I need to learn to like cleaning and I scoffed. I clean because I'd rather clean than live in a pigsty...but LIKE IT? !

But I have to admit it, I'm beginning to develop a sense of satisfaction when I manage to clean something. Now, that might not be huge for anyone else, but considering my long, deep-seated whacked emotional connection to cleaning, it's a start.

ALL of my clothes have been put away! The kitchen is clean. The bathroom is clean. I'm not so energetic that I'm willing to start cleaning the rest of the house, but I did manage to think of food too. I've cooked dinner and a cake, and some custard. I have leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

So where did the change come about? For once I'm not exhausted. I've been a homebody all weekend, and because I was sick all last week I've been making sure I've been getting enough sleep. It turns out I like 10 hours of sleep a night, at least while I'm getting over a chest cold.

So maybe the ticket to a happy home is spending more time in it. Well, that and put away the computer. Or perhaps all this energy has come from my body's gratitude to still be alive after nearly hacking up a lung. Whatever it is, I think I like being a homebody once in a while.