I need to start in the bathroom, definitely the bathroom. But wait, there's tons of dust on the Playstation. The dust needs to go first, then the bathroom, definitely the bathroom. Suddenly I’m Rainman.
I scrub every tile, twice, frenzied. The toilet is rubbed so thoroughly I'm surprised a genie doesn’t emerge and grant me three wishes. The sink gleams. I detail the vanity, wash the towel racks and mop. I move on to the living room, relocate the black couch to the kitchen, turn the green one on its side, vacuum, mop, and hand dry the floor. I roll up the rug, vacuum both sides of the pad, mop the floor underneath, and hand dry the rest of the hardwood. Frenzied. Why?
Because Mow Mow had surgery today and Bry Bry doesn't care very well. Rachel's concerned. Watches her intently now that she's home, even calls the vet to make sure her shaking isn't a sign of something serious (Other than the fact that she had her ovaries yanked out).
I look for dirt, unable to cope with intense emotion. She’s just a dog, I remind myself, and I’m just a human.
I'm not very good at caring.
If it weren't for Rachel, I'd isolate myself and consider the interaction I have with people on a purely superficial level--satisfactory. I avoid close relationships. I usually stay on the periphery of potentials because relationships are risky. I've been burned. My brother and I don’t speak.
I hate caring.
It requires vulnerability and where I’m from, vulnerability is weakness.
Weaknesses are exploited.
Manipulated.
Of course I’m sane enough to realize these beliefs for what they are: Faulty. But my neurotic side has his own agenda, out to prove my worthlessness by grabbing the wheel at every turn and changing my course, away from stability, fulfillment and happiness, towards uncertainty, anger, and isolation.
So I clean and let the two sides battle it out. Heads, my healthy side wins and clean is clean enough, caring isn’t so bad, and Rachel isn’t out to kill me softly.
Tails, and the dirt multiplies, caring is poison, and Rachel, well, SHHHH, she might hear us…
