I used to be a perfectionist. Or at least tried to be. A place for everything and everything in its place. But I'm finding more and more I don't care about that as much.
It's like before our daughter was born. Long before hand sanitizers, I was a clean hands freak. I would wash my hands - with soap - all the time. Multiple times a day. Even when they weren't dirty. Before we moved into rental apartments, I'd wash down every single surface. Even if the walls were clean, I'd still wash them down. Heaven forbid I'd ever touch a wall that someone else had touched.
But after the kiddo came around, there was less and less time to be so particular. I still washed my hands with soap quite a bit, but not like before (except I do use more soap than anyone else in the house). And nowadays, the moment I get in the car from being out shopping or out to eat, or really anywhere I might be where I could have touched something that someone else might have touched, the hand sanitizer is the first thing I grab. Thank goodness for those small bottles I can keep in the car. (The Bath and Body Works fragrant ones are the best!)
Trying to work on my house being deep cleaned (although not perfectly) and using hand sanitizers every time I leave the house, yet having fabric scraps all around my sewing room and drooping dead roses in the garden and not having a mopped kitchen floor - it didn't make sense. So I had to rectify that.
At the end of the day today, I'll feel better than yesterday. (Although I don't feel great about having to give myself a shot tonight.)
Kitchen floor mopped. Check.
Roses pruned. Check.
Sewing room cleaned. Check.
My fabric closet is back to where it was on Day 57 and the rest of the room is finally back to normal as well.