The floors in my house need hoovering. The tiles need mopping. But what am I saying? Do floors need anything?
If you were to come to my house today, I could very well spin into embarrassment. Because the need in the floors is mine. Not theirs.
My husband doesn't get this. I'm not sure he sees the floors the way I do. But, like him, in this moment, I'm ignoring my floors. I will get to them. I promise.
Because to tell the truth, your opinion matters. I don't know who you are, but somehow you're there in my mind judging my dirty floors.
This thinking creates uneasiness in my body. A queasy sensation in my gut. A tightness in my shoulders. It’s enough to make me clean the floors right now and leave this piece of writing.
But I won't. The floors aren't going anywhere. There's time enough to hoover and mop. I might not hoover and mop one after the other. Mopping makes my back ache, and the floors will only get dirty again.
Still, they are playing on my mind. You might think I'm strange for writing this. You'd probably be right. We all do this kind of thinking.
The putting off part people call procrastination. But I'm not procrastinating. I just can't be in two places at once. And I don't have a cleaner.
Good thing that. If I had a cleaner, I'd have someone coming round, and that would mean I'd have to clean the bloody floors!
Crazy thinking.
Not just me.