Ask Your Question today
Sometimes, I sweep dirt under my rug to see how much collects, then at the end of the week, I play in it. I run my fingers though it and rub it on my hands. It feels nice. Is this weird. There have to be others like me right?
It starts out innocently enough, secretly sweeping dust under the rug so you can later caress its fluffy grits, thinking dirty thoughts no doubt. As you swirl your fingers through its filth you wonder what it would look like as a dancing whirl of smoke...how it tastes on your lips...Oh god its so goood!!! Next thing you know your snortin lines, shootin up you can't get enough. You're gonna start breakin into peoples vacuums before ya know it my friend.
TL;DR: It's weird by societies standards, but look at how weird everything we do is. Biologically its simple and not weird at all, compared to some of the lunatic things we do everyday(example: obsessions with "likes" on Facebook).
It's weird, but it sounds like one of those simple random fascinations that hijack your reward system. Kinda like picking scabs or something of the sort. What do I mean by reward system? We have the bodies of cavemen and super developed minds. And what does your body biologically do to make you eat or procreate? Reward you with good feelings. This is similar, you are physically reaping and enjoying the rewards of cleaning your house. Don't think this is a dangerous use of your reward system; playing call of duty 14 hours straight for an achievement is dangerous. Of course it still sounds strange and a little hoarder-like, but in no way should you be alarmed by that; it's a simple random fascination you have with the visual and physical stimulation of seeing how much you've cleaned out of your living environment, your reward for cleaning. Most people wouldn't go as far as playing with it, but to each is own.
Have you ever seen "The Big Comfy Couch"? Well, it was a delightful Canadian show for kids in the 90's to 2006. There was a segment on the show where Loonette would focus on the cute little dust bunnies that lived under her Big Comfy Couch. If I'm remembering correctly, they had their own language. It would be nice if this happened to you, but you don't have a Big Comfy Couch, as far as I know. You aren't a happy Canadian clown and you don't own a adorable little doll that looks like Matilda and has an eating disorder that lasts for one day.