Comparison is the thief of joy. Theodore Roosevelt said it, and it seems to be a sentiment echoed in articles and blog posts and conversations that I find myself engaged in quite frequently, and as well as I know the phrase… That comparison thing comes up and gobbles up my joy whenever I’ve left my guard down.
Case and point, I’ve wasted my entire day mentally fussing because my kitchen is an absolute disaster area and comparing myself to my friend Rachelle, who I spent the weekend with in Vermont, who’s got all the mad housekeeping skills that I haven’t seemed to master yet.
Because you know… Dwelling on that is clearly helpful in cleaning your kitchen. (P.S. It’s not.)
I even wrote an entire blog post that I ended up deleting because of how outright “woe is me” it sounded.
The worst part is it isn’t like I did nothing today either… I did some deep cleaning in the room that the kittens had been living in to prep it for the new roommate to move his stuff into. I did a decluttering of a box that was mostly holding old bills that have long since been paid that I no longer needed. I did put away the clean dishes and did the dirty ones.
Sometimes I find that I have a really difficult time giving myself credit for the things that I do accomplish because shit ain’t perfect right away.
As much as I’d like to wave my magic wand and have everything in my apartment be perfect all the time, it’s just not going to happen. The best I can do is knock out little chunks everyday and try to maintain those chunks before they get bad again. I just have to keep plugging away, there’s no avoiding it.