I work a fast-paced day job as a metaphorical fruit ninja. It’s a ton of fun, but when a metaphorical fruitstorm comes flying my way, my entire life goes on hold. Time to shampoo? NO WAY! Throw that bedhead in a sock bun and run, don’t walk, out the front door. Just got home after a 10-hour day? Better leave those black leggings on the floor where ya took ‘em off, ‘cause you know they’re going back on again tomorrow with a different top! By the end of a week like this, my apartment looks like it’s been trampled by a cat 3 hurricane and I’m left spending precious free time picking up the pieces of my life. It’s ex.haust.ing.
A big part of this chaotic cycle comes from my perfectionist tendencies—if I can’t get the whole damn place clean, I don’t want to bother cleaning at all. The other issue here is the sheer magnitude of crap that I hold onto. If I had less of it, there’d be less of a mess to clean up each week, right? It’s not like we’re talking rocket science here.
So recently, with my twenty-mlehmleh-th birthday rapidly approaching, I made a radical decision to hurdle over my perfectionism paralysis…Read More