I’ve been sitting here for 45 minutes trying to work up the motivation to clean my apartment. It’s not in terrible shape, just kind of the general chaos of disarray it usually takes on by the end of my three days at work. I know it’s totally possible to hold down a FULL-time job and keep your abode clean, but I have not mastered even the part-time job and cleanliness mix. So by Wednesday night, our apartment is usually a bit of a mess. It’s worse since I’ve been pregnant–dealing with my developmentally disabled charge during the days at work completely uses me up, leaving me physically and mentally exhausted. Which is infuriating, because it doesn’t feel like I do very much at work, let alone at home. But that’s another story, one not worth telling because it mostly involves self-pity, which is not very interesting or attractive.
ANYway. My husband is a much neater individual than I. Now, I would say I clean (as in scrub with chemicals) more than he does…but he organizes much more often than I do. And the clutter bothers him in a way that doesn’t occur with me. I mean, I get paralyzed by the mess, but I am usually still able to turn my head and fall asleep at the end of the night (which might have something to do with the aforementioned state of gestation). Obviously, I am not going to get motivated to clean for myself (although that does happen on occasion), or because I should. But I have found that when I think of cleaning as an act of love that will bless my husband, it becomes a little easier to work up the motivation.
Matthew recently took on an additional job for some friends of ours who own a car business of sorts. The job more or less involves them calling Matthew last minute to see if he’s free to drive or fly to some distant location and then drive a car back for them. This happened for the first time on Tuesday, he left Wednesday, and will be back late tonight. And I am determined that he will come home to a neat-ish apartment. Not because I have some sort of archaic notion that it is what is required of me to be a good wife (I will not be freshly applying makeup to greet him at the door with a kiss), but because I love him and I know how much better he will feel if he walks into a clean-ish apartment than if it’s a messy one. And really, when I compare the payback with how little effort the gesture will really take, it’s a no brainer. I simply learn to respect the way he works, and tailor my gestures of love to speak to his needs. Like the need for neatness instead of clutter.
True love isn’t really found in the grand gestures of romance and affection, although those are nice and have their place, I guess (not being a big romantic myself I guess I don’t really know). Loving someone effectively really takes place in the tiny banalities of the every day. It’s easy to shrug them off, but the true importance of those little things is quickly remembered when you’re angry because somebody didn’t do them. So…I’m off to love my husband and clean my apartment. The nice thing about this particular little thing is that it actually makes my day better too…I’m not really that awesome at loving someone yet.