This morning, as intended, I baked some chocolate choc-chip muffins. Very delicious, and now I have a stash to hopefully last me a wee way into the looming first semester of university. But the weirdness really took off in the evening, when I walked into the kitchen with every intention of doing the dishes, took one look at the sink, and decided I was unhappy with its cleanliness. Next thing I knew, I'd cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom, and the toilet, did the dishes left over from the cooking earlier, soaped and cleaned my hands within an inch of their life, and then got on with dinner. Now, I've just finished baking Afghan biscuits - delicious chocolate biscuits that contain cornflakes - and after writing this, I will do the chocolate icing for the Afghan biscuits and make blueberry muffins before taking down some washing I hung up yesterday.
Normally, I'll trudge through one or two chores in a day before deciding that's quite enough. Especially if it's much-despised vacuuming or ironing. But yesterday was productive too, as I did numerous loads of washing and a substantial amount of cleaning. Two days in a row, how entirely peculiar. I can't quite figure out what's come over me. I've had a bit of imperative to cook and stock up on food so I have afternoon teas for days when I'm stuck at uni and dinners ready to go for the days when I stay late, but that can't explain all the cleaning.
Really, I feel like I've been domesticated. By myself.