November 25th, 2009



I'm not sure if or when I will ever be able to talk about it.

All I can say is that there is something ever so humbling about the moment your plumber starts to take apart your toilet. Doesn't matter how expensive your perfume is or how shiny your toenail polish is. First there was humbling, then there was grossing out and then there was OCD kicking in.

It was relatively easy to fix but made a bit of a mess. As I said to the cashier as she looked at me after looking at the entirety of my shopping basket at the shops at 8am: "Plumbing emergency." And you know *everyone* I have said that to today, has given me the special nod and "oh" of deep deep empathy. Which you know, HAS NOT HELPED the OCD. What do you do when you're ... acting just like everyone else would do?!

There were several stages and levels of cleaning that occurred. Several moments where I nearly lost it. I did just want to sit down and cry at one point. Then I wanted to call my mummy. I did neither of these things but pressed on and applied MORE BLEACH! And I kept quizzing myself on what I would find not acceptable later so that I would do it in the moment and it would be done. There was a brief moment when all seemed lost after I had traipsed outside to exchange the bucket water and then traipsed inside "outside dirt". I think. Was it "outside dirt" or *shudder* more "inside dirt"? Surely it wasn't *shudder* "inside dirt"? In the end, I had to satisfy myself by pointing out that I had used a fuckload of bleach and I had used the bleach that advertised "KILLS GERMS DEAD" (wouldn't you have bought that one?) and surely that was "outside dirt" since I had done an initial clean up before I began mopping. And ... "outside dirt" is not unrelated to the kind of dirt I was cleaning up and the inside of my bathroom had KILLED GERMS DEAD. And the dog will be in later so ... you know ... IT'S CLEAN ALREADY!

Then I showered. And came to work. The whole thing has been quite traumatic. Which seems ridiculous. I didn't get much sleep, maybe 5 hours? And then I spent two hours cleaning. But you know, worse things have happened to other people. Worse things have probably happened to me. Let me just say this though, there is nothing, and I mean NOTHING, to compare to the moment your plumber comes in with a USED SPONGE the size of a brick AND USES IT IN YOUR HOUSE. Nothing. Breathe. Breathe. Bleach. Used a lot of it. Afterwards. Breathe.

My OCD is not quite under control. But I don't think I got too trapped in any mind loops. I had a plan on how to clean the bathroom and the passageways that I think is logical. And I executed this plan. I may have removed several things that might have been over the top but fuck it, I'd rather just buy a new bin than stress out over this for any more than today. The house is clean, the dog was outside for all of it and did not interfere with the methodology and I am going to attempt to go home and move on with my life and not get caught in any cleaning loops.

Upshot - I discovered a better way to bath Benji - in my shower. He was very good and then he sat there and waited for me whilst I showered before we both got out. He looked dazzlingly white. I think I will wash him like that in the future, much easier than the laundry trough.