The “W” Syndrome

I’m allergic to cleaning bathrooms.

I have all the best intentions when I start out. I take the bottle of glass cleaner and a nice rag and head for the shower door. In my mind I see myself spraying the glass and then wiping it off with wide, circular strokes, much like I’ve seen my mother and grandmother do a million times.  I visualize holding the toilet brush and scrubbing away the scum. I see knobs so shiny that my reflection smiles back at me.

But as soon as I step over the threshold and into the bathroom everything changes. And my mind goes into a“Pause” state.

This lasts for a few seconds and then the action returns to “Play.” But unlike a movie which returns to where it left off, my mind skips to a totally new activity.

Usually one that involves writing or walking or wine, depending on the time of day.  I call this the my “W” syndrome.

I’ve thought of seeing a doctor, but which one would I pick?  An internist, if I had one, would only say I was just procrastinating.  Nothing physical is actually going on in my brain.

A psychiatrist would start analyzing me in one of several ways.  A believer in the Freudian theory, would go back to my youth. Since my mom is an immaculate housekeeper he might suggest I have some regressed anger toward her.  Or some underlying issues linked to the word Wife, which back in my mom’s day was equivalent to cleaning, cooking and serving one’s husband.

A Gestalt therapist might suggest that I ignore the past and live in the moment. Which of course, would bring me no closer to cleaning the bathroom since those moments don’t exist in my life.

And as far as my dreams go, the only time cleaning shows up in my rem state is one in where I’m handing money over to a professional house cleaner. And with today’s economy that’s not about to happen any time soon.

So I decided to try to cure myself.
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First, I put on some good old rock and roll music.  That was all well and good, until I started dancing around the house which led me to my tennis shoes and out the door for a long Walk.

I then switched to soothing meditation music. That brought me to my couch and a glass of Wine.

Next, I tried listening to an audio book that produced creative thought and I ended up at my computer Writing.

None of these solutions brought me any closer to cleaning the bathroom.

But one day, who knows exactly when, I’ll go into the shower and say WTF!

How come no one ever cleans this place? And I’ll go into a cleaning frenzy.

Until then. I say: Visitor Beware.

Come drink a bottle of wine with me. There are more important things in life than cleaning the damn bathroom.