Is This How OCD Starts?

I’ve never been much of one to clean just because I wanted to. I’ve always had a messy room, and usually once a week I would have to gather the cups and forks that I had accumulated and bring them back to the kitchen to be washed. I tend to have too much ‘stuff’ and it tends to get in the way. But there’s a line between being messy and being disgusting.

Look, I know that cleaning has been the only topic that I’ve been able to talk about lately, but that’s because cleaning has been my life. The house that I arrived to is… was, disgusting, and I’ve been doing my hardest to clean, organize, and make this house livable. I was talking with my sister before, and she agrees with me that the house was nasty. We both are a little messy, but we’re also sanitary.

Here’s MY issue.

Adam works all night, comes home, we get food, and then sleeps. That’s it. He doesn’t clean, doesn’t want to organize, doesn’t know how to keep a house. I’m not saying that I’m much better, but at least I’m trying. Here’s the real kicker to my gut though. While he’s at work, I am at home, alone, and I’m so tired of watching TV. So, I clean to the best of my ability. Do laundry. Dust. Sweep. Do dishes. Wash the sinks. But when Adam gets home and sees that I’ve cleaned… he gets MAD! Because supposedly it’s HIS job to clean the house. Then why doesn’t he do it? It is because I clean it while he’s gone? I don’t know.

Ok, so I get that I’m just ranting here, but I have to. I am trying my hardest to make this house livable and to make this a life that I want to live, but I seem to be hitting this wall called “husband”. He means well, truly he does! But when I ask him to clean up, he turns on the TV and watches the TV while throwing one or two things away. He groans when I ask him to sweep or to dust. He gets so mad when I ask him to get his ass out of our bed and to help me clean our house. I can’t stand the filth that I’m living in. I can literally see the germs crawling up my skin. I’ve never been so inclined to scrub every inch of living space around me with bleach.

So, here we are. I’m living in a house that’s disgusting, yet I’m getting yelled at for keeping this place up to a standard of living that won’t get the CDC called on us.

I need moral support. I need a husband that cares. I need a break and I just got here.

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