I *love* coming home after a trip to a clean apartment. I don’t have trouble, for the most part, with living among mess. Piles of paper, unfolded laundry, scattered books, random shoes and other piles of paper feel like natural surroundings to me1. But when I come home from a trip to that exact same mess, it sucks the life from me. Coming home to a bed that’s been made, shoes stacked neatly on the shoe rack, clean dishes shining in the drying rack2 and a carpet that not only can I see, but that has actually been vacuumed during the same calendar year, makes Beth a happy camper.
I also like coming home from trips out east because it means that I’m conditioned to wake up early, due to the time zone difference. I was quite tired after my much-delayed flight, so I pretty much just brushed my teeth, washed my face and crawled into bed3 when I got home last night, and this morning I was up even before my alarm went off.
I also like this 1 day workweek I’m having this week. <grin>
1It helps that I don’t spend a lot of time at my place – it’s more of a place to sleep than a place to hang out most of the time.
2I do realize that real clean freaks would consider dishes left in the drying rack to be anathema , but in my world – hey, at least they are clean.
3A nicely made bed, at that