🧺 Sunday Reset: Cleaning for One (and Losing My Mind in the Process)

The Myth of the Minimal Mess

You’d think living solo would mean no need for an hours-long, full-house, nothing-is-safe kind of reset clean — but that would be entirely wrong.

For those of you who’ve never had the pleasure of living with a female: we’re gross. Maybe worse than boys, honestly. But we’d never admit that, because at least we put our dirty underwear in the hamper… even if our stray hair in the shower never makes it off the wall. 💁‍♀️

The Midweek Chaos

Taking care of myself during the week is exhausting. The amount of clothes I find in random places (why is my robe on my bedroom couch? do my clogs really need to be by the door?) and the hair that mysteriously migrates across the carpet… it’s impressive, truly.

To avoid spending my entire weekend scrubbing, I stick to a light rotation of chores during lunch breaks — but Sundays are sacred. They’re for the mental reset that comes with physically cleaning your space.

The Game Plan

I’m not saying my way is the way (though, if you don’t try it once, I will judge you a little). I take my time, stay present, and always cue up a killer playlist to match the mood.

I start slow: coffee first, skincare second, cute-but-comfy cleaning outfit third. Sometimes I ease in with a comfort show or a few pages of a book, then I’m in attack mode.

The Top 3 Offenders

Each week, I pick my top three worst areas — kitchen and bathroom are almost always invited. This week’s lineup:

1. Bathroom

2. Second bedroom

3. Kitchen

Pro tip: crank your playlist as loud as you want. It’s go time.

Phase One: Bathroom → Sparkling Temple of Serenity

Laundry starts first (sheets, towels, chaos, etc.) — then I dive into the bathroom for that early dopamine rush.

Goal: make it look like no one has ever lived here.

• Everything goes back to its home.

• Restock what’s low.

• Dust, then wipe everything down with a deliciously scented antibacterial spray (I’m still obsessed with that coconut one from summer).

• Scrub, polish, and shine.

• Finish with the holy trinity of floors: vacuum → dry dust → wet Swiffer.

Then light a candle and bask in the glow of your own domestic goddess energy.

Phase Two: Laundry Shuffle & Bedroom Bliss

Laundry round two — clothes in, sheets and towels to the dryer. The system works, trust me.

The bedroom is usually the easiest win. Quick dust, vacuum, remake the bed, then light another candle. Fresh sheets + clean mind = serotonin.

Pro tip: light the candle after you make your bed. We don’t need any duvet tragedies.

Phase Three: Midday Break

At this point, my brain feels slightly fuzzy from the cleaner fumes, and my body’s like “bestie, sit down.” I grab a coffee refresh, step outside, and breathe actual air. Whether it’s a walk or chatting with neighbors, that little reset helps me appreciate how much I’ve already done.

Phase Four: Closet Chaos Tamer

I fold and put away clothes first — wrinkles are the enemy — then organize the “second bedroom” (aka walk-in closet, makeup room, and emotional support space).

• Shoes lined up

• Sunglasses corralled

• Jewelry cleaned and put away

• Vanity dusted and mirror shining

• Makeup organized, reorder list started

And yes, finish with the holy trinity of floors again.

Phase Five: The Grand Finale – Kitchen Edition

We’re closing shift and morning manager all in one.

• Dishes done and drying

• Counters disinfected like your life depends on it

• Trash out

• Floors cleaned

• Candles lit

Effortless chic achieved.

The Reward

Did this take a few hours? Sure. Do we now feel like a super-accomplished badass who deserves to rot on the couch with comfort food and a face mask? Absolutely.

Fresh jammies, Christmas movie queued, candle flickering — this is the good kind of exhaustion.

Final Thought

There’s something almost meditative about this ritual. Mentally, it justifies the Sunday rot, recharges me for Monday, and reminds me I’m capable of taking care of myself — mess and all.

Because yes, I’m single, slightly chaotic, and covered in Swiffer dust — but my apartment smells incredible, and my mental health is thriving.