Okay, so today was most certainly the start of the last week of the fiscal year. Nothing quite like watching budget people wig out over other staffs’ mismanagement of their programs.
So I came home and did what I normally do when I’m stressed out. I downed a fifth of good bourbon. Since I’m not currently drinking until after the marathon, I cleaned.
Somehow putting things in order seems to calm me down, as I’m sure I’ve written about before (but I’m too lazy to look up any entries). The dining room table is clean, the desk is clean, my triathlon/exercise books are in order, and I’m about to tackle the cookbooks (those have been driving me to distraction of late as I try to find particular books and they’re in no order). The floor is clear enough (and was even before I started, honestly - this has been an effort to attack surfaces above the floor) that the roomba ran nicely around the whole place while I worked on particular areas, rescuing it as it ran into the bathroom or got stuck on the living room carpet. A nice, soothing scent’s been going in the burner, and I just closed up the house for the night, to shut out the noise.
It’s certainly a healthier reaction than the other usual one, and I do feel better for having cleaned stuff up, but it always strikes me as odd when I ‘come out of’ a cleaning fit and find specific spaces put into order and looking much, much better than they had at the begining of the evening. Neuroses are such fun.
