I Am Revia

 It started when we got a new vanity installed at our old house in the upstairs bathroom, and a new sink installed in our downstairs bathroom.

The vanity was shiny. Every morning after my morning ablutions I would wipe down the counter, the faucet and the sink. Left it all sparking. This was not normal. I had let the old house go so far down that the whole place was like an overflowing port o' potty in my mind.

Cleaning was not a strong point for me or Carol. Fot me it was probably a backlash to the tyrannical way my mother ran things. My mother was Revia. Or it could be that I am just fucking lazy.

My mother kept our house spotless. Absolutely spotless. Unfortunately she turned me, my brother, and my father into her personal cleaning torture victims. She beat us, refused to feed us, whipped us with bicycle chains, until every speck of dust, dirt and grime was banished from the house. Even the imaginary ones, and she had plenty of those.

But she never had to scramble when company was coming over. The place was antiseptic. As opposed to me and Carol, who would have to "clean" for 9 hours anticipating company. Even then the house looked like a place strategically demolished by dynamite.

After the movers left the old place on Tuesday I went in to clean up after them. I was horrified. Did you know that dust even accumulates under things? Fucking house was a mess. I was standing alone in my old house and I was embarrassed. It took me hours to sweep, vacuum, and pick up miscellaneous trash like cat toys, corks, loose change, papers etc

We are in our new home. I am Revia.

Today is Day Three and I have already vacuumed the kitchen and put together a plan for regular vacuuming and cleaning. I made toast this morning and I wiped down the entire counter before I ate.

Strangest part? It feels natural.

Thanks, Mom.