I mean, I *think* cleaning is good for the soul. I don't do it enough to say that with any real authority. Today Jeffrey and I have been cleaning for wedding guests. Mostly it's been really good, and it has reminded me of the hate/love relationship I have with stuff. I have thrown tons upon tons of it away today. I think to myself, who needs all this stuff? I'd rather have the space. But the truth is, except for gifts, I went out and bought all this garbage at one time or another. So I have to stop doing that.
I swear I'm not typical-bride crazy, but I did have another breakdown today. See, one time, when my mom was first sick, I went home to visit her. And we had set up my brother's computer for her to play around on, you know, write and play games, do whatever she wanted to do. I think there was a drawing program, too. Anyway, on my last day home, I wanted to jump on there and type up a poem that I had always loved from this book of poetry that my brother had. And she was playing around on the computer, and asking me to teach her how to do stuff, and I was getting really impatient. Just stupid and impatient over a stupid poem, like 36 bytes of information. Well, I have that book of my brother's now, and I found it when I was cleaning. I can't even remember what the poem is and I can't bring myself to open or touch the book, because I think of that story and I just start to cry.
So now I'm thinking, should I get rid of the book? Or should I try to deal with it and forgive myself? I frankly don't like my chances, it being more than 9 years later already. I mean, I think I should keep it. I'm the kind of person who works harder, not smarter. Remember when Michael Landon used to do the Hooked on Phonics commercials and he used to say that you should cut down a tree with an axe (working smarter) rather than cutting down a tree with a sledgehammer (working harder)? I always used to say back to the TV, No, Michael, I work harder. And it's true. I like to do the harder thing. Which may be why I can't bring myself to let myself off the hook. But this time I really want to get rid of it. It just hurts so much. I can count the number of times my mom was impatient with me on one hand. And I was just so angry. I was such an idiot.
My God, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.