Sunday, 31 July 2011

The bleach

Mia pushed the shopping cart in front of her as she walked past the sloppily stacked items on the shelves. The cart was already full of groceries for the coming week. Meat, vegetables, fruit and dairy products were neatly placed in the cart, separately organised. She stopped in front of the shelf with bleaches and started reading the labels. This was always her last stop in the store, her favourite one. She spent twenty minutes comparing the products and in the end she decided for the one she had always bought. She was satisfied with herself; knowing that she uses the best cleaning products calmed her.

Mia’s house was always spotless and she worked very hard to keep it that way. With two kids and a husband who doesn’t really care if the house is clean that’s a hard task. But nevertheless their house was always clean, Mia made sure of that.
When she got home kids were playing outside and Carl was mowing the lawn. Mia took the groceries to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She turned the radio on and sang while putting away the things she had brought from the store.
Everything had its place in her kitchen and she hated how Carl never put milk in its place inside the refrigerator. She never understood how some people can’t seem to remember where things should be.   
When Mia was done she didn’t sit down and drink her tea. Instead she drank it while cooking dinner.

After dinner Carl went to the living room and kids went upstairs to their room. Mia remained alone in the kitchen. She started cleaning the mess her loved ones made; she picked up the dinner plates and glasses and put them into the dishwasher, stored the leftovers inside the refrigerator and then she put on her yellow rubber gloves and took the bleach from the cabinet under the sink. She loved cleaning; cleaning was the only thing that she could control. Carl was always doing whatever he wanted, the days when he tried to please her and when he did something she liked were long gone. And the kids were too big to be told what to do, they only did what they wanted to.  Cleaning was the only thing she had left.


  1. Perfect description (was it meant to be?) of OCD behaviour. Sad and poignant, well written.

  2. That last line was rather heartrending, but I did like it.

  3. This made me think of my daughter Natasha who has OCD and loves to clean she is a neat freak but we love her so much........

  4. This is sad. As if Mia just existed to feed, cook, clothe, shop and clean. She needs fun in her life.

  5. Sad. But OH so true in many homes. I'd imagine it's what many stay at home Moms turned empty nesters go through.

  6. Um, I love to clean. . .don't like messes. . .want everything in it's place. . .I was just raised that way.

  7. It's interesting how people rely on certain things in their life to get through and find some sense of control over their own destiny. I really liked the idea and particularly the last line. It was so sad.

  8. Wow......the details of what's running through Mia's mind was beautifully done....

  9. Absolutely well done! Keep it coming! :D

  10. Excellent, Starlight! Kind of sounds like my day--only I'm not obsessively cleaning.

    Love your new profile photo! :)

  11. @li - It wasn't my intention to describe OCD but it seems that it came out that way. Thanks for stopping by and commenting.

    @Robbie - I'm glad that you liked it, thank you.

    @Jo-Anne - I wish I was a neat freak; I'm not very enthusiastic about cleaning.

    @Barb - It was meant to be a bit sad. Some people have sad life stories.

    @Julianna - I agree. Thanks for stopping by.

    @Barbara - My best friend loves to clean; it relaxes her. You're not the only one, I also like everything in it's place but on my weird, a bit messy way :)

    @Abi - Thanks, I was struggling with the last line, glad you liked it.

    @Cat - Thank you. Glad you stopped by and read this :)

    @*^_^* - Thank you!

    @Jayne - Thank you so much. And thank you for noticing my new photo, I like it too :)

  12. This one is very cleverly written. Of course, if I was that far gone, I'd probably put that jug to my lips and drink the bleach instead of the tea.
    (Why was I not following you all along?)