My journey to spending my days cleaning my half of a dorm room floor began unexpectedly. For some reason, one day the sarcastic banter that I engage in with my friends turned to the topic of small quirks we have. I said “I’m so weird about my feet being dirty. I don’t even know why.” It wasn’t really funny, but it went by unquestioned, so I took it as a win. Mentally, I noted that my dorm floor is kind of gross so maybe I should vacuum tomorrow. Who doesn’t like to do a little procrasti-cleaning?
But I didn’t just vacuum. The next morning, I used my dual-attachment mini vacuum with a fervor and accuracy that is unparalleled by the typical vacuum-er. My human self and my vacuum merged into one synergistic being that ruthlessly removed dust from the the nooks and crannies of my room. It was a glorious moment in my life that left me happy through the afternoon.
The magical satisfaction of cleaning my floor faded over the next few days, until late one fateful night, when I needed to quietly grab my pint of ice cream from the freezer, I walked barefoot and felt the grimy linoleum. I slightly chuckled to my myself and exasperatedly mumbled, “Wow! This floor already feels dirty again.” As I was falling asleep, I admitted that maybe I might be just a little weird about the floor.
That night I had no dreams – only nightmares of spilling liquids and tracking mud into my sacred living space. I woke up in a sweat. Making deep eye contact with my Clorox wipes on top of my dresser, I decided that maybe half-heartedly wiping the ground with one might ease my mind. Twenty minutes later, I was left with a pile of dirty wipes heaped into my trashcan. Finally, I felt better. Maybe the floor just needs a deep clean every once in awhile? I crawled back into my unmade bed with a satisfied smile on my face.
Awakening from my nap, I fully expected to enjoy lemon-scented floor bliss, but as soon as I felt my toes on the floor I knew something was wrong. It was terrifyingly sticky. Apparently, Clorox wipes leave a sappy residue when overused? I’m not sure, but walking on that floor scarred me. I knew that I had to do more.
Switching my browser to incognito mode, I turned to my trusty friend wikiHow. Losing all sense of obsessive cleaning shame, I succumbed to this wonder of a website. Steps 5-8 on my fourth article taught me to combine dish soap and hot water in my mug-bowl for the perfect cleaning solution. Delighted with my discovery, I employed one of my precious few washcloths to meticulously scrub the floor.
For a while my life seemed back to normal–but I soon realized it was a short-lived victory. Just four days later, I was back to square one. Post-shower, my newly cleansed feet made contact with the floor, and I immediately knew that my little quirk was no longer little.
I knew that I had to take more drastic steps. So, I ventured into the cleaning supply aisle at the beloved campus CVS. I perused the countless brands of multi-surface fluids and flexible-handle scrubbing instruments, until settling on the grand supreme Swiffer that could be used both wet and dry. I rushed back to my room to excitedly put this new purchase to use, and, luckily, for the last two weeks it has satiated my obsession. But we’ll see how long this lasts.
Image via Emma Butler.