It’s Like Someone Took Desperate Housewives and Silence of the Lambs and Shoved Them Into My Autobiograpy

House_cleaning

With all of the crime shows that I watch and the homicide novels I read and the fact that I’ve twice been the victim of aggravated assaults, it’s pretty amazing that I do not obsess all of the time about serial killers.  The only time I am somewhat concerned about them is when I am in my car alone and I am singing with the radio at the top of my lungs.  Even then, I am torn between worrying about the guy laying in wait in the trunk of my car who may have just discovered that he has a bigger motivation to slit my throat than he thought and the guy in the car next to me at the stop light who never pondered serial killing until he heard me belting out, “Hey Soul Sister.”

But those moments are rare – maybe once a week.

No, I spend far more time worried about the aftermath of being serially killed.  This puzzles me because I will be dead and presumably will have less anxiety at that point.  Nevertheless, I am increasingly fearful of what people will think of me when I am dead.  Specifically, I am tormented by thoughts of what they will judge to be my less-than-stellar housekeeping skills.

I’m pretty sure I’ve written about this before – which only goes to show how much it bothers me.

For some reason, this affliction seems to have worsened during the summer – maybe because I have a bit too much time on my hands.  I look in a closet, and am suddenly acutely aware that there are too many clothes in it, that if anyone else should happen to see that I still own 3 bridesmaid dresses that I wore twenty years ago they will be incredibly astonished at the levels that my hoarding reached and how could they have never suspected that I was so deeply disturbed?

Yesterday, I noticed the light switch in my bathroom had accumulated about 5 years of dust on the top rim and nearly had a panic attack while I tried to finish up my business so I could get to some cleaning supplies and rectify the situation before I die.

The funny thing is that you would walk into my house and never think to yourself, “This is someone who is obsessed with cleaning her house.”  That is because I am very self-aware, and I realize that if I give in to this craziness I will lose my mind completely and become like that lady on Desperate Housewives who may or may not have become a serial killer herself (I’m not sure because I stopped watching it after the 2nd season).  So, I allow myself to freak out for about 20 minutes a day and then I collapse in exhaustion on the couch and force myself to read.

Another serial killer book.

That describes the abode of the victim in great detail.

Detail that I hope no one will ever feel the need to go into when I am serially killed.

Advertisements

Posted on August 3, 2014, in Humor, Phobia and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 23 Comments.

  1. This is brilliant. And I worry about the same thing. kind of. I am not killed by a serial killer…just randomly shot…you know, by a REGULAR killer.

    Just under my bed alone will keep the family whispering about me for a decade.

    • Wow. Now I’m really curious. I realize now that I’ve been going about this in completely the wrong way. Perhaps what I should do is deliberately place things around the house that will make people whisper about me for decades. At least I will be remembered for something…

  2. not to worry even dogs worry if they do not get enough treats or I always rearrange my pillow like I am nesting, it drives momwithoutpaws crazy because she cannot leave it she has to smooth it out.

  3. I do that all the time. If I see something that needs to be cleaned I freak out until I can clean it. The killer thing, though, I do worry about it. I also wonder about like, what if I’m hit by a stray bullet? But I know that the chances of you actually dying from a gunshot wound even if the person is standing right in front of you is slim. Unless it’s your head. Then you’re basically screwed.

  4. It’s the toilet! I always worry that they will notice the toilet isn’t sparkly clean and will talk about me. “She was a really nice person but did you see the ring in her toilet?” I’m getting OCD just thinking about it.

  5. I admit there is always a deep clean done before I go on a trip just in case a serial killer grabs me and my momma or worse yet, my MIL have to go to my house to get my funeral clothes. Yep I clearly mark them funeral clothes just in case. I even make sure the Tupperware cabinet is organized because we all know about the vast amounts of funeral food brought to the family that must be put away. That leads me to scour the fridge and throw out anything that is expired or about to expire. I blame it on CSI, Criminal Minds, NCIS, ect……

    • So, my question is – do you wear the funeral clothes ever? Or did you purchase them solely to wear when you are in the casket? I’m just curious because I have no designated funeral clothes, and I think I may need some. I’m torn between labeling the shorts that have a broken zipper along with the blouse that has a stain on the back as my funeral clothes or going out to buy something brand new.

  6. I have never worried about that, until now! I’m suddenly feeling the need for a big clean when I get in tonight!

  7. I worry that when I die, everyone will see that my record-keeping is a mess. Since I am a financial executive, everyone will see that I don’t care a thing about my own personal finances. (which is true)

  8. SSFAM – I COMPLETELY identify with this post. Thank you. 🙂

  9. recently I worried that I would die and people would find my copper bottom pots which looked like I’d placed them directly on a caveman fire and possibly cooked up motor oil inside them and they’d wonder how I’d not poisoned my whole family with the $hit I’d cooked up in them. this caused me to clean them. ah. I have clean pots, I’m exhausted, and we all might die from the contamination in the rest of the house. AND – I’m glad you’re back!

    • You and I are truly kindred spirits. I was just looking at my copper-bottomed pots today and realized that they are despicable. I’m trying to decide if I should spend time cleaning them or just throw them out. If I could give any advice to people setting up a new home, it would be to not buy any pots with copper on them unless they plan to never cook in them.

  10. I think I love you. (sorry if that’s too forward.)

  1. Pingback: That’s a Stupid Place to Hide a Screw | whatimeant2say

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: