A good clean can be a very sweet thing. I’m not talking about a mundane every day kind of clean, I don’t mean washing up, or having to pick up clothes to see the floor again. I mean an all out scrub, clearing out your drawers, ‘my new life is going to always be this clean and tidy’ clean. This kind of clean can put things back in their place, into proportion, and back in control.
Now I am well aware this all sounds a little obsessive compulsive, maybe a tad catholic, marginally 1950’s housewife. I am none of these things, but I am a woman. Occasionally things have been known to build up, muddle me up and come pouring out of me like a confused and hairy psychopath. It is at these moments I realise it’s time to whip the Hoover out.
The subsequent clean extends beyond my home to my body, to exercise videos and face masks; quite frankly there’s no better solution to morning after guilt than a little self-improvement. But this is where I’m faced with a contradiction, if I am to believe Tyler Durden’s cheeky little mantra in Chuck Palahniuk’s ‘Fight Club’, (and of course I’m going to , because I flipping well love Fight Club) that “self improvement is masturbation”, than all this cleaning and washing and running on the spot is, surprisingly enough, going to get me nowhere. Hmm.
If I’m honest, I’ve never had an issue with masturbation, it might not get you to Cambridge, but I’ve heard it can be quite pleasurable. And if a clean kitchen is going to relinquish some of the mental attributed to my sex, then I’m ok with that too.