The Land of the Cleaning Disorder
Inspired by dropping my breakfast this morning.
Have you ever noticed, when you drop toast
It lands with the butter side down?
Dog hair, Cat hair sometimes even Budgie seed
Stuck in the butter so you frown…
At the Dog as he sits and drools
Pop another slice in, now you have some rules
To stop that OCD, and freaking out again (*a-gen)
Calm yourself down, count to ten
Then think of the time when you had that disorder
Cleaning till your hands bled, verging on the border
My house was once perfect
You could eat off the carpet
Sterilized everything, was my house law
Forbidden was footwear and nowhere was Cat hair
And Dogs were not allowed through my door
Dirty, Smelly creatures dribbling everywhere
Messing my perfection, I didn’t even care
How uncomfortable my house was
For people visiting, throwing them a coaster
Making sure they’re keeping
My immaculate little cell
As pure as it can be
Walking around the kitchen
Mopping spills I cannot see
Plumping up the cushions before guests even leave
Busy, busy cleaning, only I deceive
Myself, because later in my bed
The thoughts going round my head are;
- Did I comb the tassels on the rug?
- I have left a wine glass in the sink!
- I must polish the light bulbs with essential oil in the morning!
- Is the kettle two inches away from the wall, with the flex on the right?
I ended up 6 stone 2, and my hair went thin
I didn’t think enough about the bleach in my skin
Or the time spent re-cleaning every single day
Re-organising toy boxes, but never time to play
Thank God, I saw the light!
What a strange place to see
The land of cleaning OCD