Why I RAGE CLEAN

How my compulsion to tidy reveals more about my stress and mental load than it does about my need for spotless countertops

- GEMMA HARTLEY

It always starts with a small thing: a candy wrapper behind a couch pillow, a pair of socks on the living room floor, the contents of a kid's backpack spilling into the hallway. Triggered, I begin to notice each small thing that is out of place, all that is dirty or neglected.

Suddenly an infinite to-do list unfurls at the back of my mind. While my family members go about their day, creating new messes as I'm dealing with the old ones, an anger is ignited inside me. No one else notices what needs to be done. No one cares about this house except for me. These sweeping (and largely untrue) statements stoke the fire of resentment in me until it's a raging blaze.

And then I start to rage clean.

The fridge desperately needs to be emptied; the bathroom grout must be bleached; the junk drawer needs to be organized. I move furiously from one task to the next, scrubbing surfaces with vigor. I vacuum so forcefully that my arm gets sore. When I start to tidy, any anonymous clutter in my path is destined for the donation bin. This burn-it-all-down cleaning mode usually ends with my living room pristine but my energy completely drained.

The Meaning of the Mess