Fetishes are funny; we don’t often see them until others start to point them out.
It started one evening after dinner when I was dog tired; yet, I couldn’t call the kitchen cleaned up until the floor was scrubbed and wiped up. There were four children under six in the living room wrestling with their dad, while I endured shriveled finger tips. Just as I finished up, my husband stood in the doorway asking, “Why don’t you use a mop? You are tired and really don’t need to be down on your hands knees. “
It wasn’t an immediate change, but I thought about it. A few weeks later I purchased a mop. That very evening I tried it. Wow, wow, wow, a mop is A LOT faster than scrubbing a floor on my hands and knees.
The next time a floor incident came up, my eyes began to open to the fact that I might have a fetish. This time I was sweeping. My sister was visiting; the comments kept slipping out. “Oh, yes, go grab a broom.” “I think you missed a spot.” “Hey sister, this floor hasn’t been swept in hours; you are losing your touch.” What? The floor needed sweeping, why was she razzing me?
Again it took me a few days to digest. After she left for home, I tried to only sweep once a day. There was a strange sense that this was healthy, that it was ok to sweep only once a day.
After Todd started working from home the true depth of my floor fetish came to light. One day as I pulled out the vacuum, my husband came out of his office and asked, “What are you doing? Didn’t you vacuum yesterday?” Well, yes I had, but what did that have to do with now? I have always vacuumed every day.
Suddenly, my honey was telling me that it was not necessary to vacuum every day. Not only was it not necessary, according to him, but it was no longer possible with him working from home. This adjustment took more than just a few days to accept. I had to come to terms with my floor fetish and learn to live with some dirt on them.
Todd has been working from home for six and a half years now. Today I am proud to say I am freed from my floor cleaning addiction. It is freedom to realize that we can live with crumbs, sand and even go up to a week without running a vacuum. Our house has not become a sandbox, much to my surprise; we are living just as healthy as we did before the fetish died.
I don’t know what it might be that others don’t want to let go, but listen to those who love you and move forward to freedom!