Surveying anew the disaster that is mine and Eli's room, it occurred to me that such has been the regular condition of nearly every bedroom I have ever inhabited. I can remember my room being so messy at one point around age eight that my friends and I broke my bed playing this game where we jumped off of it like the side of a pool into the 'water' that was my cluttered floor. The toys, clothes, books, crap on the floor were literally two ft. deep. I don't know how I managed to get my room this messy or how my mother went for so long w/o making me clean it up, but the broken bed put her in a punitive mood and I did not go outside for nearly a wk. while I worked to clear the floor AND my closet (I must have worn only clothes that I could scoop out of the 'pool' during this time b/c the closet was unreachable). The last night of this, my mom wouldn't even let me go to bed until I finished cleaning the room. I still remember crying on the floor, begging to go to bed (I NEVER asked to go to bed), all the while folding my little clothes and plotting her demise.
While mine and Eli's room is not quite so bad as this and some of the mess is Eli's, whether he wants to admit it or not, it is def. becoming a nuisance, even for me. (For example, I have bruises on my lower shins fr. so often running into thgs. that clutter our floor.) And I thought to myself, "After 24 yrs. of life, and roughly 22 yrs. of being responsible for my own space, why is it such an impossibility for me to maintain neatness?" Examining more closely the specific contents of this fallout zone, I spotted another characteristic that has persisted since early childhood -- I am the worst postal patron ever. At the moment, I have boxes to mail to Sarah, Marion, Stuart, Benjamin, Daniel, Nicole and baby, Neil and Helen, my dad and his family, Brianna, and Tristan and her baby. I have had some of these boxes for nearly eight mos. now. (However, I would like to point out that, despite multiple inquiries, I am still lacking addresses for some of these recipients -- ahem.)
This has been common w/me since the first time I moved after learning to write proficiently. After moving to Maryland for a semester when I was nine, I received a letter fr. one of my Georgia friends, Karen. Karen had not only written, she had decorated the letter and included candy (Twizzlers -- one of my favs). Naturally I felt compelled to reply in kind. I wrote a letter, found some Butterfingers I was trying to get rid of, sealed them up, and....ended up giving it to Karen four mos. later when I went back to GA, though I think I had taken the Butterfingers out, as I had doubts abt. their quality after so long. Later, when I moved to South Carolina, I took w/me a book I had borrowed fr. my friend Brooks (w/whom I was madly in love for most of my 5th grade yr.). That book then moved w/me six mos. later when I again relocated to MD and did not make it back to Brooks for another nine mos. when I finally put it in the mail w/a goofy letter sending my best wishes and apologies. I actually have no idea if the book ever ended up back in Brooks's possession b/c I never heard fr. him and given my deplorable rate of return, he may v. well have moved to a different address and/or died by the time I sent it off. These are only two examples of what can only be described as a sad pattern of behavior that, like the unmanageable room, is showing no signs of progress with age.
But I have a solution to these and similar problems I have.
I need a butler.
While mine and Eli's room is not quite so bad as this and some of the mess is Eli's, whether he wants to admit it or not, it is def. becoming a nuisance, even for me. (For example, I have bruises on my lower shins fr. so often running into thgs. that clutter our floor.) And I thought to myself, "After 24 yrs. of life, and roughly 22 yrs. of being responsible for my own space, why is it such an impossibility for me to maintain neatness?" Examining more closely the specific contents of this fallout zone, I spotted another characteristic that has persisted since early childhood -- I am the worst postal patron ever. At the moment, I have boxes to mail to Sarah, Marion, Stuart, Benjamin, Daniel, Nicole and baby, Neil and Helen, my dad and his family, Brianna, and Tristan and her baby. I have had some of these boxes for nearly eight mos. now. (However, I would like to point out that, despite multiple inquiries, I am still lacking addresses for some of these recipients -- ahem.)
This has been common w/me since the first time I moved after learning to write proficiently. After moving to Maryland for a semester when I was nine, I received a letter fr. one of my Georgia friends, Karen. Karen had not only written, she had decorated the letter and included candy (Twizzlers -- one of my favs). Naturally I felt compelled to reply in kind. I wrote a letter, found some Butterfingers I was trying to get rid of, sealed them up, and....ended up giving it to Karen four mos. later when I went back to GA, though I think I had taken the Butterfingers out, as I had doubts abt. their quality after so long. Later, when I moved to South Carolina, I took w/me a book I had borrowed fr. my friend Brooks (w/whom I was madly in love for most of my 5th grade yr.). That book then moved w/me six mos. later when I again relocated to MD and did not make it back to Brooks for another nine mos. when I finally put it in the mail w/a goofy letter sending my best wishes and apologies. I actually have no idea if the book ever ended up back in Brooks's possession b/c I never heard fr. him and given my deplorable rate of return, he may v. well have moved to a different address and/or died by the time I sent it off. These are only two examples of what can only be described as a sad pattern of behavior that, like the unmanageable room, is showing no signs of progress with age.
But I have a solution to these and similar problems I have.
I need a butler.
Or a maid or a PA, whatever. Just someone who can keep track of my shit and clean up after me. I don't even need them in the rest of the house; I am quite good at keeping the kitchen and living room under control (esp. the kitchen since I hate germs), it's just my freaking bedroom that always gets the best of me. My career goals now revolve around making this a reality. Be it doctor or government worker or lady of the night, I WILL make enough money in my occupation to hire someone to either live in my house or to come often enough to keep my room under control. And maybe cook me some meals b/c I don't really like doing that, either.
Some of you may think this silly or frivolous, but you are probably the same ppl. who have changed significantly since the age of five. I have not. Maybe it's b/c I was pretty much left to make my own way at that age, or maybe it's b/c I simply can't be bothered w/'development', but I am essentially the same person I was nearly 20 yrs. ago, just more articulate and taller (but not much). I have accepted that I am flawed in the areas of maintaining order in the bedroom, prompt mailing, and cooking for myself on a regular basis, and I will likely remain so. Therefore, I am now attempting to find a practical stop-gap measure that both solves my problems and allows me to continue avoiding what some would call "useful" or "easy" or "necessary" changes. Now I need only find a job that pays me enough to live and to pay someone else enough to live. Should be a snap, no?
Some of you may think this silly or frivolous, but you are probably the same ppl. who have changed significantly since the age of five. I have not. Maybe it's b/c I was pretty much left to make my own way at that age, or maybe it's b/c I simply can't be bothered w/'development', but I am essentially the same person I was nearly 20 yrs. ago, just more articulate and taller (but not much). I have accepted that I am flawed in the areas of maintaining order in the bedroom, prompt mailing, and cooking for myself on a regular basis, and I will likely remain so. Therefore, I am now attempting to find a practical stop-gap measure that both solves my problems and allows me to continue avoiding what some would call "useful" or "easy" or "necessary" changes. Now I need only find a job that pays me enough to live and to pay someone else enough to live. Should be a snap, no?
4 comments:
I can't believe there was not some sarcastic remark left by you on my onyx entry! Oh and whats in the package? And are you still coming in May?? Better be yes!
Girl, who talking to 'bout some Onyx?? Hello, I LOVE them! Also, of course I'm coming in May, you were on the phone w/me when I bought the ticket, silly girl, and you will get your much-belated bday package then. Call me when you're back Stateside so we can work out some details.
I was very innocently reading your blog, and yes as far as I could tell you room was always a complete disaster, and then, this is strange, my brain decided to take this portion of your posting 100% completely out of any normal sort of context:
"Daniel, Nicole and baby"
And suddenly I was thinking to myself "I used to be a real free spirit, until the baby..." I don't know who this Nicole is, though I'm sure she's very nice, but for some reason putting my name right in front of hers and "and baby" genuinely fucked with my head a little bit there. So, in the future, please avoid any phrasing that could be taken out of context by me. Thanks.
Daniel, I will take your request under advisement, but let's face it -- you've practically made a career of taking thgs. out of context. Except you don't get paid.
Congratulations on your new baby.
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