Living “on my own” is weird. Somehow, with the signing of a lease, I became a clean freak. You can ask my mom — at home I tended to be a slob; leaving dishes lying around, my stuff littered across the house… and it would take much harassing to get me to do the simplest of chores. But now that I have my own place, I can’t seem to stop cleaning it.

The kitchen is my biggest annoyance. As the roommate that does the majority of the cooking, and therefore spends the most time in the kitchen (a fact I don’t begrudge), I am finding that I am easily frustrated by how quickly the organization and cleanliness of that room in particular can be lost. I spend at least a half hour a night cleaning the kitchen and still can’t seem to keep it clean and orderly.

I’ve even made a cleaning schedule. All these things my mother tried to teach me before that I shrugged off as useless I now find myself putting to the test. Monday is for the kitchen (but realistically the kitchen gets cleaned every night), Tuesday is for my bed room (but that didn’t happen last night due to entertaining guests — I have double cleaning tonight, then!), Wednesday is for the dining/living area, Thursday for the bathroom and Friday for the laundry room.

I’m somewhat baffled as to where these cleaning ticks came from. It is, seriously, like a switch that turned on the moment I walked into the apartment — everything has to be clean.

And then there’s the whole cooking thing. Autumn and I make meal plans and thus far I’ve executed the cooking. I don’t mind, I actually enjoy it. But cooking at home was always my mother’s and occasionally my sister’s task.

I ask you this: Has my housewifely clock turned on?