I've heard about this "nesting instinct" for a while now. And then, last night, I experienced it in all it's irrational glory.
Now, I can't be the only one to experience this, can I? Imagine: You have a loooong day at work. You drive home, in bad traffic, in the dark and the rain. You're exhausted. All you want to do is lay down on the couch and relax. And then... you walk into your home and find shoes and socks to greet you at the front door, and dishes piled in the sink. The garbage needs to be taken out, and the cat has unrolled a roll of toilet paper and scattered pieces around the house. It's enough to push anyone to their breaking point, yes?
So I started to clean. But not normal cleaning. Rather, that crazy, stressed-out, "I-must-clean-and-sanitize-everything" kind of cleaning. Banging pots and pans as I thrust them into the dishwasher. Hectic vacuuming where it looks like someone pressed my "fast-forward button" and I'm doing everything at an elevated pace. Loading the washing machine to capacity, running up and down the stairs with piles of clutter, and starting to get out of breath. I felt like a mad woman! Cinderella on steroids or something.
Joel came home from work to find me scrubbing the bathroom floor in a frenzy with tears streaming down my face. It must have been such a comical sight, but thankfully he kept his laughter inside. He helped me up from my hands and knees and talked me down from my frantic state. He said things like "It doesn't all need to be cleaned right now..." (I kept crying) and "Let me help you" (crying still) and finally with a smirk, he said: "Sarah, you're a little tiny bit crazy right now. I don't know what to do with you." And the crying slowly turned into a chuckle which turned into laughter. And some more laughter. And then some more crying from me. And then I think I fell asleep.