I think my brain is playing a subtle trick on me. Over the last couple of weeks it’s had me picking things up here and there, washing up a bit more than I normally would, putting clothes away instead of having them on a drying rack all the time (QUICKER ACCESS) and other such things.
It’s got to the point where I actually tidied – and properly cleaned (to some extent) – the desk at which I’m sitting right now. I have literally used this desk once before the tidying, when I attempted to paint and failed miserably.
Well, I mean I did actually manage to paint. It’s just the painting looked like it had been produced by a particularly un-artistic four-year-old. With no hands.
Then there was the kitchen incident, where my brain convinced me to wash up all the other dirty crockery that was lying around, even though I wasn’t about to use it to consume noodles from. Bizarre.
But weirdest of all has to be today, where on finishing up a particularly viscous (yet malty) poo my brain convinced me – all too easily – to clean the bathroom. Only a bit. But there was spraying of cleaning products. Wiping. Rinsing. Removal of beard hairs from the tiled wall. It was… strange.
But I’ve caught the dastardly brain out now. I know its plan and I’m not going to stand for it anymore. The next time it attempts to subtly make me tidy my flat I am going to either medicate it with beer or run as fast as I can into the nearest wall, head-first.
That’ll show the sneaky fucker.