Cleaning is not magic, it’s just tedious.. Best case scenario, it can be vaguely satisfying — for example, if you are a so-called “knowledge worker” and like to have tangible proof of doing a thing (“Hey, I did the dishes today!”) or else if you’re the sort of anxious, overwhelmed person who requires the illusion of control in order to function (e.g. “My life might be a mess, BUT NOT MY MOTHERF*CKING FLOORS!”)
There’s value in that, for sure.
But mostly cleaning is the worst, a war of attrition against the natural entropy of household clutter.
I just wanted to say this, because I’ve been told that I have a talent for tidying and organization. I don’t. At all. What it is, is that I hate living in filth and squalor. Believe me, I’d much rather be doing something worthwhile — or even not-so-worthwhile, like computer solitaire. (Both are pointless, repetitive tasks, but the difference is that the cards put themselves the hell away and stay there once you’re done.)
In fact, with every piece of dirty clothing I have to pick up off the floor, a fleeting opportunity for joy or personal fulfillment dies a sad, whimpering death. Just so you know.