Problem. I can’t manage the housework, and I get depressed when dirt and disorder win, because having a neat and clean house is important to me and I feel I should be able to handle it. Stuff piles up—dishes on the counter, dust on the TV, fluff on the dog (and then off the dog, playfully cantering like mini-Maddys to all corners of the house)—and I can’t relax or do anything else (like write blog entries or e-mails or Facebook comments or job letters or grocery lists, for example) until it’s dealt with. But I also can’t bring myself to deal with it without panicking over where to start. Or I manage to start somewhere but can’t focus on a single chore and exhaust myself jumping around without finishing anything. Some weeks it’s to the point that I don’t even look forward to going home from work because I’m not sure what to do when I arrive. Yes, those are my panties in a bunch.

Psychological breakthrough. I’ve mostly come to terms with the fact that I’m an anal person who functions best in the context of established systems or sets of guidelines. (Whatever, I’ll still strive to be less uptight and more spontaneous and creative in other areas, uh, like writing? All the more reason not to squander what little spontaneity and creative energy I do have on mundane chores.) Lately I’ve been reading a lot about paths to productivity, but with limited results regarding this particular problem. (If anything I’ve perpetuated the sense of angst by overthinking.) Until this breakthrough of clarity and calm:

The housework is never done. I am never going to catch up on it. Chores will never constitute a project that I will someday feel a sense of satisfaction in completing. The house will never reach a state of glorious perfection; there will always be another tumbleweed of Maddy fur romping in the hallway.

So first things first: I must drop the all-or-nothing approach to housekeeping—I will never vanquish it, so I will stop trying; but neither will I let it crush me. Instead I will establish a system that encourages me to tackle smaller chunks of chores, regularly and often, and that removes thinking—and panicking—from the equation.

Solution. I’m replacing the current nasty habits of anxiety and self-loathing with a simple daily ritual: I’ll spend about 30 minutes making the tricky transition from work to home by tackling a predetermined set of chores, aided in my endeavors by some kick-ass music. To set up this system, I madly scribbled a thorough laundry list of kernel-sized tasks, organized these into sets, and assigned the groups to specific days of the workweek. I jotted a few guiding principles at the top of the schedule, all of which I’ll post on the refrigerator:

• Follow the Henry Rollins way to housekeeping Zen: Don’t think about it. Just do it!
• Messes happen; clean ‘em as they do, whenever feasible, before they grow into an issue.
• Recognize your good efforts; forgive your lapses.
• You are free to deviate from this schedule. It is here to serve you; you are no slave to it!

To plan for days of extremely low morale, when it’s hard to make seemingly light, low-level decisions, I even gave some thought to what music goes well with housework, starting with today’s soundtrack:

London Calling by The Clash. But seriously this album goes well with everything. Rhythms to propel me; lyrics to fight the tyrannical menace of dust:

When they kick out your front door
How you gonna come
With your hands on your head
Or the trigger of your gun?

Look into the Eyeball by David Byrne. “Wiggle while you work / Anybody can…” Yeah, that song alone regularly saves my fragile little mind from slipping into chaos:

I’m breathing in
I’m breathing out
So slip inside this funky house

Dishes in the sink
TV’s in repair
Don’t look at the floor
Don’t go up the stairs

I’m achin’ I’m breakin’ I’m shakin’
Like humans do

Who’s Next by The Who. As the manic arpeggios of Townsend’s synthesizer crash into the power chords of mega-tars in the album-opening moments of “Baba O’Riley,” my confidence swells, and I feel capable of taking on the world’s problems, or at least scrubbing the kitchen sink. “Naked Eye” builds great momentum too. (Thanks, Patty!)

Loco Live by The Ramones. For all my speed-cleaning needs, this unrelenting barrage of double-timed Ramones classics is particularly useful for throwing myself into the most dreaded chores (though probably best to set aside time for a nap after). I used to have it on cassette and need to bring it back into my life…Scott’s collection of Japanese surf guitar music is also choice for getting the bathroom over with.

Yankee Hotel Foxtrot by Wilco. For a somewhat mellower approach, when I want to let go a little in the war on grime:

You’re gonna lose
You have to lose
You have to learn how to die-ie-ie

“Trash Day” by Weird Al Yankovic. Thanks to Scott, the official theme song of Thursday nights, when we bump ‘n’ grind the garbage out to the curb:

There’s somethin’ rotten here (say what?)
You better hold your nose
(Hey, you disgusting slob, you gotta take the trash out)

So, um, what’s your favorite music for chores? (she asked, hoping to divert any scathing comments on her freakishly advanced state of obsessiveness…)