"Clean House," BOOP and Me

When MyKid is at day camp, I often watch "Clean House."

Not often, please, I watch it whenever I can.

The program's format gives me a sense of order.

First, they show you this terrible mess of a house with dirt and piles and boxes of junk everywhere, so that the "team" practically can't get into the house. Then the team does a little therapy with the folks who have let their lives and homes get so out of control.

Then someone from the team confronts one of the hoarders and they have a rather civilized discussion/fight over what the person will have to part with so that they can make money at the big yard sale.

It's so sad to see these people unable to part with busted toys, old purses, grandma's lamps, and the other plethora of their lives.

Then the yard sale takes place and all the junk is dispensed with. And then finally, they do the reveal. That's the best, because you get to see the great furniture and the "clean house" free of piles of junk. Also, you can see the relief on the people's faces. They honestly look relieved and happy, because the burden of the junk has been lifted from their lives.

And every time, Nicey Nash, the producer/leader of the program, says something like, "I know you want us to do your house, too, but we have other houses to do. Good-bye."

Well, I couldn't understand why I kept watching this show. I mean, our house isn't perfect, but we're not hoarders and we're always throwing things out.

So, what's my fascination?

Last night, I finally understood. I want my neat life back.

BOOP prevented me from working properly for 4 months. I couldn't come to meetings, because I was unable to breathe. I had yellow mucus, or I was coughing.

Either I had allergies or bronchitis or pneumonia.

I was practically blamed for closing my department, because I was "never around."

So, I get a rare disease that no one's ever heard of, has a funny name, and the researchers and pulmonologists and scientists who identify it don't even know what causes it.

You leave the hospital with a stack of medicines and a bunch of instructions. You're essentially left on your own for weeks. No one calls in to see how you are doing. Just come back in 4 weeks says the doctor.

Now, to cure it, my face and body are distorted. I can barely move. I'm warned that I'm in danger of getting diabetes and/or osteoporosis.

BUT, little or no guidance is provided to cope with all these changes. Anyone with BOOP has to troll the Internet to figure out what's going on.

My family life is upturned. My child's behavior is affected.

My livelihood and a good part of my identity is stripped from me after months of being tortured by a supervisor who in my opinion is a vindictive, jealous, cruel individual.

And the only way I feel I have any "control" of what's going on in my life is via this blog.

So, I would like to have my life back!

I would like to have my go-to-work-come-home order that has sustained me all my life.

I want my own neat, safe existence back. I want a "clean house."

Last night, as all this became clear to me, I imagined that my life was like a big egg, being cracked in two.

And that maybe my ordered, organized, safe life not only had changed, but really wasn't going back to the way it was before either.

Or maybe it was just a prednisone-induced dream.