What is it about going on vacation that makes me spin around the house like a madwoman? I’ve come to learn that packing means two things for me: 1) putting my clothes in the suitcase; 2) cleaning the house. Naturally, putting my things in the suitcase is the easy part. It’s cleaning the house that gets complicated.
If I were able to vacuum the carpets, put the laundry away, wash the dishes and go, then it’d be simple. Some how, I equate “going away” with “deadline”. Small projects I’ve put off MUST get done before I walk out the door. Things like delivering the recycling, lining the drawers, replacing light bulbs that burnt out months ago start bothering me with an OCD-like intensity. I rarely get to bed before 1am the night before I travel and this unbelievably stupid since I usually have to wake up at 5am.
I wonder if I do this out of some sub-conscious desire to have a spotless house in case, god forbid, anything happens. Honestly though, I doubt anyone would think negatively of me if I didn’t get the stain out of the carpet lest I never return. Or, I wonder if I do it to extend the concept of vacation. The lovely thing about vacation is getting away not only from work, but also from the household routines. It’s nice to come home and not see all of the things I should have done days or weeks ago, but to clean sheets and a clean slate where I can start my to-do list all over again.
