The kids and I live in a spacious, three bedroom house that I feel bad for. Really, I feel bad for any house I live in because deep down inside, despite my best intentions, I want to destroy them all.
I have two sisters who can make any space beautiful. I've seen one of them move into a moldy, shag carpeted studio apartment, and after one weekend of placing the right pillow here and the right bleach-soaked rag there she made it a clean, welcoming little abode that smelled like a cross between vanilla cupcake and functionality. Both of my sisters are the type of cleaners that would look great in a commercial about vacuum cleaners or chemical disinfectants. They could walk through a house, and counter tops and bath tubs would glow clean at their touch. At my touch they would turn into bowls of three day old macaroni and cheese.
I don't know how I got the messy gene where when I see a clean space I feel itchy all over. I went to an art opening a couple of weeks ago, and when my friend Sean and I stepped into the bright, sterile studio I wanted to walk right back out. The white floor, white walls, and the shiny silver chairs were blindingly bright. The art on display, kimonos made out of glass beads, hung from the ceiling on wires that you couldn't see. They were beautiful shirts with no one inside them, like garment ghosts floating in stasis with their arms spread to offer a hug they couldn't give. While Sean was attracted to their beauty, I felt like I couldn't breathe.
This is how I feel whenever I go into someone's house where everything is just a little too nice and in its place. My first thought is "Touch nothing" and my second thought is, "Ok, what's wrong with these people?" Seriously, that's what I think.
Sean argues that a person's outside space reflects their inside space, so if their house is a wreck then they're a wreck inside. If they have a lovely, well-kept home then they've got it together in their head. This is not the impression I get. When I walk into a messy house I feel like I have a handle on what's going on with a person. "An old pair of pants and a bowl of cereal are top of the television. AWESOME. This woman has nothing to hide about how busy, poor, and disorganized she is." How do I know she's poor? Because she can't afford a new, flat television. You can only stack cereal bowls on the old ones. I know this...'cause.
So conversely, when I walk into a house where all of the nice pants are in their polished dressers and the organic cereal is in the box where it belongs and the organic almond milk with fish oil supplements is in its proper container in the refrigerator which is in a newly redone kitchen that's fully up to date with a year warranty in case something breaks and has a smart, skinny television on the marble top counter, next to a sign that says, "Live, Laugh, Love," then I begin to wonder where they keep the horse porn. Because clearly, these people have something to hide.
Don't worry, I'm fully aware of how messed up this makes me, but I'm also aware that I'm frequently right. Though I'm a terrible house keeper, I'm a good listener and you'd be amazed how many seemingly together people open up after they have a few glasses of wine and begin to tell me how, after 18 years of being a lawyer, they've always wanted to be a drag queen and they make up for this loss in their lives by changing from a business suit to a sparkly dress at the end of the day and going to pick up other men while their wife waits at home in their immaculate house. Live, laugh, love.
But does this mean that just because some clean people live a double life, I should let my own place accumulate pants and bowls of cereal until the state has to come in and wrap yellow tape around my house? No. It just feels genetically impossible for me to properly nest anywhere.
Because for me the problem isn't just cleaning. It's deciding where things go. You can't necessarily keep everything in its place when nothing has a place. I have lived in this house for seven months now and I'm still trying to decide where to keep the ironing board. Right now it's by the laundry because it seems like that's where it should live, but it's sandwiched precariously between the table with all of the clothes on it and the dryer and every once and a while it falls over because it's standing on clothes that have fallen from the table onto the floor, so its on a bumpy surface, and while my clean sisters would have picked up those clothes by now because they have the right genes, I just keep standing the ironing board on top of the pile because my genetics tells me that I don't have time to deal with floor clothes. In fact, just imagine that every piece of furniture I own is standing on top of a pile of laundry and you'll have a good idea of what the inside of my house looks like.
The worst part is, I'm passing this on to my children. The other day I picked up Claire from school and instead of getting in, she leaned into my window and asked if we could give her friend Francois a ride.
"Uh," I said. "The car's not exactly presentable."
She peaked into the back, then looked at me. "It's not that bad. I'll just shove the spoons and the skirt under your seat."
And the sad thing was, she was right. For my car, it wasn't that bad. There were only a couple of spoons and Emma's uniform skirt in the way. No comic books, half-eaten food, bills, or coffee makers back there. Just three items that are now under my seat. Because I still haven't taken them inside.
Despite all of this, I am little by little making my house a home. Because for the first time, I live in a house that I love. It's old and has tons of character, and as my youngest sister who used to clean houses for a living once said, you can never fully clean an old New Orleans house. The stains never completely come out. I love old stains and scars on a house, dents where a kid might have rammed his tricycle into the wall in 1922, graffiti from a teenage girl in 1934. Since I love that type of stuff, I do not feel compelled to destroy this house. I won't put holes in the walls, or peel down strips of paint until the walls look like their shedding or crying.
But getting to the point where I can invite someone in to sit without having to move a blanket, a toaster and a hamster out of the way first is another story. That, I'm still working on. I mean, I guess if I wanted to I could blame it on the kids but I know that the problem is me. My whole adult life, whenever I've moved into a new place I've always felt like a wild animal forced to make a nest in a doll house. Maybe that's why there's newspaper, straw and twine all over the floor. It's like bedding at the bottom of a cage.
No Gen, you say, you may not make a nest out of twigs, leaves and saliva. You're a HUMAN. You make a nest out of particle board furniture and candles. And that weird wrought-iron thing you find at Pier One that isn't really art, but it makes for an interesting design on the wall, like a question mark suffering from appendicitis. See, that's all you need, you can have a normal house.
No. No, I don't think I can. I think if I came home and found my house looking like that I'd have no choice but to gnaw on the walls like a beast. So maybe it's best that I put art and concert posters up instead because they feel more like me. With no clothes hanging off of them. That way if Claire ever invites Francois over we won't scurry around the house shoving pets and trash under the couch. I'll lick my paws, and comb out my fur, and then Claire can introduce me.
"Francois, meet my mother. She's part wolverine. Look, there's a portion of the couch she hasn't chewed! We can have a seat, lemme just move these bowls..."
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Monday, September 2, 2013
Five Hamsters Starring in - NOT a Sales Pitch
....And now we have five hamsters.
There! That's the end of the story! That's all the explanation you need, right?....No? You need to know why we have five hamsters living in individual cages? Well, it's because they'd either breed or kill each other if we kept them all in the same cage. Oh, you want to know why I have five hamsters in the first place when we already have a turtle, a dog, a rabbit, and a fish? Ok, here's the time sequence:
1) There was light.
2) There were five hamsters.
That's the Biblical version of what happened. Here's the godless version:
1) Emma's dad gave her two hamsters that were living at his house.
2) The hamsters went on a date.
3) The girl hamster gave birth to 14 babies.
4) Emma's dad began to travel with work and could not care for the animals.
5) Emma looked at me with big, sorrowful eyes and asked if we could take care of the babies until they were old enough to go to the pet store.
6) No local pet store would take them because they didn't have their shots or some other stupid reason.
7) Five babies were given to good homes, six escaped into the yard, and three are now fully grown and have built their own homes. In my house.
8) Their parents are still with us and are not allowed to date. Each other or anyone else.
I'm still asking around to see if anyone would like one or more hamsters, complete with cage, but no one's taken me up on the offer. I don't understand. Sure, they're just a step away from rats and if they escape you will find droppings for days, but they're so fluffy! They're like live pillows with eyeballs.
A hamster is the kind of pet that I wish I could put in a tuxedo. I think it's because they're so fuzzily delightful, they make me want to do humanizing and thus degrading things to them to accentuate their cuteness, like when you see a dog in a sweater. The dog in the sweater thing is so old. How often do you see a hamster in a sweater? Not often or possibly ever but if you did, that hamster would setting cute records that a dog could only dream about.
Have you decided to adopt a hamster yet?
So, as you know, our pet count in my house fluctuates depending on the breed, lifespan, and the timing of a cat's speed vs a passing car. Right now we have:
1) Lily the dog
2) Ginger the rabbit
3) Ishmael Fishmael Herman Melville the Third - a goldfish with impressive credentials
4) Lightening the turtle
5) A hamster
6) A hamster
7) A hamster
8) A hamster
9) A hamster
Actually, we have named the hamsters now that we're sure that they're ours and no one wants them. Are you the type of person who falls for people or things that no one else wants? NO ONE wants them! NOOOOBODY! They're so cold and alone on the fringe of society! They just need a shoulder to crawl on, a hand to nibble, a house other than mine! Well, maybe I'm projecting with that last part. But ok. Their names are:
1) Bolt
2) Twilight
3) Brownie
4) Thor
5) Ulysses
Guess which ones I named? The kids wanted to call Ulysses "Scamp," but when he was a baby he went missing for three days and showed up just as we'd given him up for dead. He went on an epic journey, fought a cyclops, was hailed by sirens, and...did whatever else the myth describes. Only he knows what those things are. Anyway, after that ordeal I decided that he'd earned a grander name than "Scamp." Plus, I hadn't gotten to name one yet.
And if you took him into your home for FREE you could hear all about it. He doesn't speak English, but I believe that he tries to communicate through whisker twitches. I would take the time to learn it, but with the other four hamsters twitching their whiskers all at once it gets loud in there. Kind of like being on a bus. Full of hamsters with moving noses.
I named the other one Thor because he runs around with a little hammer. Does that affect your decision to take him? Well, he doesn't smack things with it. He fixes things around the house. In fact, yes YES all of the hamsters were named for a unique capability. Bolt is fast, so he can take you places on time. Twilight can tell you stories about sparkly vampires. Brownie bakes sweets. Thor is a handy man, and Ulysses is a sailor/adventurer who will fight a cyclops for you.
So now that you've decided to take any and maybe even all of our beautiful, handy hamsters, please write to me at this address:
12345 Hairball Plaza
Cage Shavings, LA 6789101112
But won't the kids miss them you ask? Maybe we should also do a roll call of the other critters in my house, since it's been a while.
1. Claire - human female, 14, listens to music and is chronically bored.
2. Emma - human female, 12, plays with all of the animals that her siblings have little to no interest in, makes art and avoids homework.
3. Christopher - gamer male, 10, plays video games, also avoids homework. His job is to eat and get taller.
So Emma and I might miss them a little, but since the animal to human ratio is beating us I think we could afford to lighten the load.
That address again is:
1000 Whiskers Blvd.
Oh My God Take Them, LA
Well, I can't put my address on the internet! Sigh. Could it be that I really do want to keep the hamsters, now that I've named them and nursed one of them back to health after he returned from an epic journey, gaunt and gasping for corn and sunflower seeds? Well. Maybe. Maybe I'd miss them a little. Besides, I am starting to learn their whisker language. And I did tape broom straws to my face that one time so I could twitch back. And Brownie is a good cook.
So...does anyone need piles of discarded fur? We've got bails of them. It would make a fetching sweater for your dog.
There! That's the end of the story! That's all the explanation you need, right?....No? You need to know why we have five hamsters living in individual cages? Well, it's because they'd either breed or kill each other if we kept them all in the same cage. Oh, you want to know why I have five hamsters in the first place when we already have a turtle, a dog, a rabbit, and a fish? Ok, here's the time sequence:
1) There was light.
2) There were five hamsters.
That's the Biblical version of what happened. Here's the godless version:
1) Emma's dad gave her two hamsters that were living at his house.
2) The hamsters went on a date.
3) The girl hamster gave birth to 14 babies.
4) Emma's dad began to travel with work and could not care for the animals.
5) Emma looked at me with big, sorrowful eyes and asked if we could take care of the babies until they were old enough to go to the pet store.
6) No local pet store would take them because they didn't have their shots or some other stupid reason.
7) Five babies were given to good homes, six escaped into the yard, and three are now fully grown and have built their own homes. In my house.
8) Their parents are still with us and are not allowed to date. Each other or anyone else.
I'm still asking around to see if anyone would like one or more hamsters, complete with cage, but no one's taken me up on the offer. I don't understand. Sure, they're just a step away from rats and if they escape you will find droppings for days, but they're so fluffy! They're like live pillows with eyeballs.
A hamster is the kind of pet that I wish I could put in a tuxedo. I think it's because they're so fuzzily delightful, they make me want to do humanizing and thus degrading things to them to accentuate their cuteness, like when you see a dog in a sweater. The dog in the sweater thing is so old. How often do you see a hamster in a sweater? Not often or possibly ever but if you did, that hamster would setting cute records that a dog could only dream about.
Have you decided to adopt a hamster yet?
So, as you know, our pet count in my house fluctuates depending on the breed, lifespan, and the timing of a cat's speed vs a passing car. Right now we have:
1) Lily the dog
2) Ginger the rabbit
3) Ishmael Fishmael Herman Melville the Third - a goldfish with impressive credentials
4) Lightening the turtle
5) A hamster
6) A hamster
7) A hamster
8) A hamster
9) A hamster
Actually, we have named the hamsters now that we're sure that they're ours and no one wants them. Are you the type of person who falls for people or things that no one else wants? NO ONE wants them! NOOOOBODY! They're so cold and alone on the fringe of society! They just need a shoulder to crawl on, a hand to nibble, a house other than mine! Well, maybe I'm projecting with that last part. But ok. Their names are:
1) Bolt
2) Twilight
3) Brownie
4) Thor
5) Ulysses
Guess which ones I named? The kids wanted to call Ulysses "Scamp," but when he was a baby he went missing for three days and showed up just as we'd given him up for dead. He went on an epic journey, fought a cyclops, was hailed by sirens, and...did whatever else the myth describes. Only he knows what those things are. Anyway, after that ordeal I decided that he'd earned a grander name than "Scamp." Plus, I hadn't gotten to name one yet.
And if you took him into your home for FREE you could hear all about it. He doesn't speak English, but I believe that he tries to communicate through whisker twitches. I would take the time to learn it, but with the other four hamsters twitching their whiskers all at once it gets loud in there. Kind of like being on a bus. Full of hamsters with moving noses.
I named the other one Thor because he runs around with a little hammer. Does that affect your decision to take him? Well, he doesn't smack things with it. He fixes things around the house. In fact, yes YES all of the hamsters were named for a unique capability. Bolt is fast, so he can take you places on time. Twilight can tell you stories about sparkly vampires. Brownie bakes sweets. Thor is a handy man, and Ulysses is a sailor/adventurer who will fight a cyclops for you.
So now that you've decided to take any and maybe even all of our beautiful, handy hamsters, please write to me at this address:
12345 Hairball Plaza
Cage Shavings, LA 6789101112
But won't the kids miss them you ask? Maybe we should also do a roll call of the other critters in my house, since it's been a while.
1. Claire - human female, 14, listens to music and is chronically bored.
2. Emma - human female, 12, plays with all of the animals that her siblings have little to no interest in, makes art and avoids homework.
3. Christopher - gamer male, 10, plays video games, also avoids homework. His job is to eat and get taller.
So Emma and I might miss them a little, but since the animal to human ratio is beating us I think we could afford to lighten the load.
That address again is:
1000 Whiskers Blvd.
Oh My God Take Them, LA
Well, I can't put my address on the internet! Sigh. Could it be that I really do want to keep the hamsters, now that I've named them and nursed one of them back to health after he returned from an epic journey, gaunt and gasping for corn and sunflower seeds? Well. Maybe. Maybe I'd miss them a little. Besides, I am starting to learn their whisker language. And I did tape broom straws to my face that one time so I could twitch back. And Brownie is a good cook.
So...does anyone need piles of discarded fur? We've got bails of them. It would make a fetching sweater for your dog.
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