Going for a new world record.

Friday night was super casual.  I put a frozen pizza in the oven on aluminum foil, that’s how lazy I was.  I didn’t even want to wash a pizza pan.  Watched some TV, went to bed pretty early.  I knew what I wanted to get done Saturday morning, and since I scrubbed the daylights out of the apartment last weekend, I knew it wouldn’t take me long.  So when I woke up, I put some bacon in the oven, grabbed my knitting, and finished the toe on the first sock of the first pair of 2013.  I began to get my chores list in my head when the phone rang.  My mother, telling me they were already about halfway to the apartment.  It takes them about two hours to get here, so I knew I had ONE HOUR to get everything done.  I mopped.  I scrubbed.  I vacuumed.  I did not do laundry; I did not shower.  I cleaned the whole place, including dusting, in 56 minutes.  Yes!  I sat down for about 5 minutes and the knock came at the door.  I was able to relax and enjoy my time with my parents knowing that I had accomplished all my weekend cleaning and wouldn’t have to get it done after they left.

So here’s the thing: My dad wanted to call Friday night to tell me they were coming and Mom didn’t let him.  She also didn’t call me at 8am Saturday.  She figured if they had called I would have spent Friday night cleaning, or gotten up freakishly early on Saturday to clean, and she wanted me to rest and take it easy.  That’s all fine and good, but I have OCD and I live in a basement apartment.  There is cleaning that MUST take place every weekend or I get really nervous about rodents and pestilence.  I know that I worry too much about it, but honestly, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure when it comes to basement apartments, no?  So I think I felt more pressure when they were trying to take the pressure off my shoulders.

Most of the time, when I have feelings like this, I have no idea if it is my problem alone, or something that “normal” people feel, too.  Having emotional problems and living too deeply in my own head makes for some great writing, but it can make me feel uncertain about my own feelings.  Are these feelings normal?  Do other people feel resentment and anger against their family even when they know that the family is truly trying to be kind and helpful?


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