And Then Niecy Nash Helped Me

It's like I've stepped into a reality show that is a cross between Clean Sweep and Hoarders when I enter my mother's house. There are paths to walk, but barely room to set down or bags or walk by each other in the hall. The kitchen and the bathroom are the rooms in the sorriest shape - stacks of stuff everywhere on every conceivable surface. My husband and I eat out of a cooler we bring with us, filled with food we purchased before we leave town. We feel grimier than ever when we get out of the shower, not sure if we've made things better or worse in terms of sanitation.

This is how I grew up. I know how it feels to be too embarrassed by the mess to invite anyone over. I know how it is to go without a meal because you are concerned about the cleanliness of the cooking apparatus used. I know how it is to be the one who cleans and cleans and cleans to find the mess has returned when you get home from work.

When I got back to Minneapolis after visiting my mother and sister, I immediately set forth with the "CLEAN HOUSE NOW" mission. Nothing was sacred. Why, my dear husband, do you have two copies of Aristotle's Politics? I don't want to hear your excuses about one copy with your notes and one clean copy for making photocopies for your classes - one must go. Why do we have three cupcake pans? We only need one. Clothes in the donate pile. Books, DVDs, everything was on the chopping block. Six boxes of files from graduate school whittled down to three (goodbye anything written by Adam Przeworski, but must hold on to McCubbins and Schwartz for mysterious reasons). Years of back issues of National Geographic donated to a local school.

It's as if I can clean my mind of the guilt, the unease, and the sadness that weighs upon my mind when I think of recent events by cleaning and purging the unnecessary clutter in our home. It's as if I can reassure my husband that I am part of my family, sure, but I am unlike my family in some very key elements, including my ability to clean and organize. It's as if I can keep myself busy enough that I won't notice that moving takes more energy than I actually have and going through the motions is the only thing I have left.