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She’d stuttered and run into her room, slamming the door. Before she came back out, I’d made it in the shower, determined to work out my feelings for her. I knew it was pathetic, but whenever she left, I felt like Cinderella’s prince, waiting around for her to come back. I couldn’t wait for her to be done with work so that I could feed her, talk to her, and get that look in her eyes to go away.

I’d do anything if I could have her. Anything. If she just gave me the slightest hint, I’d move. If she opened the door, I was jumping in.

But she seemed like someone who’d had it rough, and I’d never pressure her.

Once I got out of the shower, she’d left for work, but I had some time before I needed to get to the office.

I looked around my house.

God, it really was a mess. Jessica was right.

If I was going to be someone who cleaned up his act, I needed to literally clean up my act.

I glanced at Elvis. “Some help you are.” With a creaky sigh, he got up, ambled over to me, and thumped me soundly with his tail.

“Aw, I didn’t mean it, boy. You go be a good dog and sit in your bed.”

Elvis looked at me like he knew what I was talking about and climbed into his dog bed.

I picked up both of the turtles and put them in their cage. “Hang out here for a second, guys, while I clean up the rest. Then I’ll clean your cage.”

I did all my laundry, folded it, and put it all away.

In the kitchen, I put all the dishes that had been scattered around the house in the sink. Then I sudsed up, washed and dried them, and stuck them back in the cabinet.

This was the spring cleaning my house needed so badly.

I moved the couch.

Holy shit. There was stuff under there that had probably been there forever, including a dead lizard. “Sniper, was this you?”

He answered me with a meow.

I swept the whole house, beat the rugs, vacuumed, and dusted.

I didn’t need to do a workout. This cleaning up thing was a fucking workout in itself. I took off my shirt and wiped my brow with it.

After an hour, I realized I wasn’t going to make it to work, and I called in sick.

I was sick of living in a mess.

I found myself an hour later, sweaty, blasting Journey, “Don’t Stop Believing,” as I mopped the floor like Cinderella.

Cinder-fella.

Another hour later, I sat on my porch and drank a huge glass of water. I was amazed at what it felt like to clean my house. Like I was an actual human being.

Like I had my shit straight.

I’d never felt before like I had my shit straight. I’d always felt like I was just barely hanging on.

Maybe this was the start to a new me.

I looked at the alert on my phone. Time to go.