Well, another OCD day here

I know, I should probably clean more than I do anyway so some of you will be thinking "what the heck is she on?" but still - it's like I'm nesting without being pregnant. (Unless it's one of those freaky still get your periods, don't put on weight, don't know anything about it until you think you need a big poo and deliver a baby into the toilet type of pregnancies...)
I threw out bags and I mean BAGS of stuff yesterday which I hadn't looked at in months. I was either intending to look at it forever or charity shop it or whatever but realised I just wanted it out of my house and on it went.
And then I cleaned - cupboards and everything! - and then hit the bathroom throwing out half used bubble baths and soaks and things that are probably well over their 12 month use by date/
I feel mildy purified but my hands smell of bleach.

It has also dawned on me though that all this could be creative avoidance. I'm coming to the end of book three and I always get a little nutso coming to the end of a book. It's somewhere between wanting never to end it and being dying to finish the fecker off. Result is I usually have a week or two of brain freeze where I'm convinced I would be better off to bin the whole lot and start again.

Words written in the last two days = 0. Upside - I don't have to worry about the quality.