shiny

this is from past....

Scrub the tub using every latest cleaner advertised on tv. The sparkle is almost just as advertised. Clean the shower glass doors, clean all of the tiles.

One can go through their whole house and remove every imperfection. It would probably cost thousands of dollars, but I bet eventually the most perfectly clean and beautifully decorated house could be made of any home.

Does that perfection lead to happiness? If their is disorder on an emotional and personal level, can making the outside look perfect do any good? I say no. I grew up in that atmosphere, and maybe that is why I have difficulty in having such a pretty perfect home. I always had the better homes and gardens home growing up, but it was all fake to me, because although perfect, it was an illusion as to what really transpired in our home. I was taught to smile even when your world was falling a part. I was always taught that what others thought of you was more important than what was going on with you.

I came home today to find my husband scrubbing and cleaning with a frantic pace our bathroom. I could tell something was wrong, but I was told nothing was wrong. Yes, I know he has an issue with how I am ok with clutter and he is not. It is definitely a difference of ours. I am pretty much a slob (I think a lot due to what I mentioned earlier, and he is pretty anal...quite a combination). We usually work through it and deal with it. But today, I knew when I came home that it was more than just his frustrations with my half azzed attitude towards cleaning. You just sense things if you know someone.

I let him proceed. I had had a long Friday, and honestly as guilty as he was making me feel (or I should say I felt due to his cleaning) I had just worked a long work day, and I didn't feel like jumping in. I wanted to relax. It was a Friday after a long week. (Oh I must make it known that currently he is at home because he is subject to the whole economy crud and doesn't have a job - no fault of his own).

I put dinner in, sat and relaxed with the kids, figuring he would eventually slow down. I kept asking if something was wrong, and was always told no. I started feeling guilty because he was slaving and I was relaxing. I got torn on my feelings there, because part of me was angry that I was feeling guilty on a Friday at the end of day, and part of me felt guilty, because I thought he was mad at me for not doing enough.

He didn't slow down. He kept up. When he gets determined, he is single minded... much like myself.

He finally paused, and I asked him what was wrong. He again affirmed that nothing was wrong, but I knew something was. It frustrates me that he will not open up to me...that he keeps himself so protected from the one person that loves him more than anything. It may be due to actions I took the night before...I don't know...It may be due to something otherwise...I don't know. He won't tell me, so I don't know. That is true frustration, because without communication I can't even begin to know where to start. We both have our imperfections, and I am certain they contribute to all of this, but our lack of communication just makes it worse.

I told him I love him, not just saying it, but that I really love him, and wish he would open up to me. It really did nothing and that frustrates me more. When he told me nothing was wrong, and I pushed it saying I knew his facial expressions and all and knew something more was going on, he again insisted nothing was wrong. I know otherwise. So I told him now something was, because I knew something was wrong and he wasn't sharing and that in itself was an issue.

My bathroom is sparkly shiny...perfection! Better Homes and Gardens could take pics and love it.

Everything else? Not so.