A clean house.

(forgot to post this one yesterday so here it is)

There’s one thing I hate more than just about anything and that’s cleaning the toilet. I hate it. Can’t stand it. There’s nothing more disgusting and icky and gross and stuff than cleaning the toilet. However, there is nothing more satisfying than a clean toilet. And a moderately clean apartment.

I took out my frustration on my apartment today, armed with a scrubby sponge and Comet. Actually, I started in my bedroom and actually found the floor. Okay, so I still have to vacuum the floor but everything is off of it. I re-arranged, re-piled, redistributed the mess, hiding some of it in the closet, tossing a whole bunch of stuff. Wow, I can actually walk and Twyla may actually be able to play.

I then tackled that icky of all icky places – the bathroom. Scrubbed the tub and the toilet and the sink and the floor. So the room sparkles now and it’s shiny. It’s almost livable now.

Moving on to the kitchen and the counters are clean and the stove is no longer sticky. Of course, there are now several bags of trash that I have not managed to haul downstairs yet. That will wait until morning, I think.

Little white dusting rags helped de-dust the living room and, again, more piles moved, more papers shuffled and we now have a coffee table with a clean surface.

So what does this all mean? Not much other than it always helps quiet the clowns when my surroundings are not chaotic. I’m still frustrated but I think I’ve worn myself out, scrubbing and cleaning and dusting, oh, my.

I guess it’s the cliché metaphor for my life. I need to take control. I need to clean things up. I need to re-pile my shit and figure out what to do with it.

I know a bit of the frustration is the inner panic of being six-and-a-half weeks from shooting and there is so much to do. The clowns are working on convincing me that I don’t know what I’m doing and that this project is going to be a failure. And I’m sticking my fingers in my ear and humming Keith Urban at the top of my lungs to drown them out. I’m hanging on to the sound of Chairman’s voice telling me that this project will happen, no matter what, because it is time for it. I hang on to the confidence that Paul and the others at the Ark have shown me in supporting this project.

So, tomorrow, I’ll tackle one or two of the things on my to-do list of 59 items. I’ll try to keep my head-house clean and not let the dust-bunnies pile up in my brain, creating the frustration and the aggravation that runs in circles in my head. I’ll look forward to the auditions on Tuesday and starting to see the film come together in front of me. I’ll deal with the fact that my life is barely in my control and I’m hanging on by my fingertips. At least I have some good people at the end of those fingertips, helping me hang on and making sure that the clowns don’t get too loud.