A mess ...

A mess ...
Originally uploaded by asmundur.

My life's a mess. My psychological state is deranged. My house is a mess. Well, that's what they reckon, isn't it? Your mental health is reflected by the appearance of the interior of your home. Oh boy, am I in trouble.

The nice men in the white coats will be here soon to take me away, so I better type quickly.

So much for the luckily-auspicious placement of hills outside my north-east corner! And my St John's Wort pills! And my ocean sounds CD! And the soft greens and calming golds of my decor! And my second-hand, ancient Kirby vacuum cleaner! IT'S ALL A CHASING AFTER THE WIND SINCE THIS STY IS INHABITED BY THE THREE LITTLE PIGS AND THE CHIEF HOG!!!!!

So here I am, defeated amidst the disarray and general destruction. But it's always like this, so I'm not writing about anything new or outrageous. People with tidy families simply cannot understand and they like to tut tut and feel superior and blame the mother/wife. But you, who have tried and failed with everything that's legal to train your miserable slob families, stand on a higher plane of "knowingness", don't you? Yes. We know.

I used to joke and say "at least there's no structural damage", but I'm not so sure about that anymore... . Just pick a room, any room! Well, maybe to illustrate the point I might do that- and I'll pick the hallway which one would normally expect to remain pretty clear. OK, in the hallway there is:

1. A million bits of styrofoam that sulky Little Pig No.3 grated up on the side of his sister's metal mesh bin on Saturday morning, and which consequently floated around and was kicked all over the house.
2. (Right outside my bedroom door) a pile of 2 dead computer monitors, 2 keyboards, the modem thing or whatever it's called, a broken video, an unidentified cardboard box of something, and a crate of toys. Wedged between the video and computer is a ROLL OF TOILET PAPER. ( For those bum-wiping hallway emergencies.)
3. Next we find my other rubbish vacuum cleaner that I have to use before the Kirby because the Kirby is so rubbish. It is partially disassembled and has been left there from an aborted attempt to clean up the styrofoam.
4. Then outside the bathroom (you DON'T want to know what's in there .. but let's just say I'm hoping that is Vegemite smeared on the bin next to the loo...) is the requisite towel on the floor, by a sock, and a Lego gun.
5. Right in the middle, standing sentinel like the guardian of the passageway, is the dirty clothes hamper from the bathroom. Why is it there? Underneath is a bit of paper, a tissue, and some ripped-off packing tape (probably from the E-Bay Warrior's latest purchase). Variety is always nice, isn't it?
6. A calico shopping bag, a giant rubbish bag full of old clothes and to finish off (like a little garnish, really) we have: some plastic, a bit of a streamer from recent Birthday decorations, and 4 dirty socks.

All this and my hallway is 9 paces long.

Why couldn't I have bred neat children? I've tried to be a good person all my life and place things obsessively at the correct angle and wash my hands compulsively! Remember the Neat Freak Family? Why them and not me? The only answer that makes sense is that it is genetic. They must have clean genes. Exempli gratia: their kids have no rotting material at the bottom of their school bags. Proof. Genetic.

Well, it's not because of me and my sweet double helix so it must be a mutation carried on the Y chromosome. Clearly, then, it is Instant Jim's fault. BUT HE TOLD ME BEFORE WE GOT MARRIED THAT HE USED TO DO ALL THE HOUSEWORK FOR HIS MUM ON A SATURDAY MORNING! This is the sneakiness of men, dear readers: they lull you into a false sense of their abilities. Either that, or it is the result of a latent mutant gene: the man in question reaches a certain age and SPLAT! It shows up. SPLAT! SPLAT SPLAT! Suddenly, like bird poo on your windscreen.

Oh! Imagine having a white decor theme! I had a friend like that. Her loungeroom had WHITE CARPET and WHITE LEATHER FURNITURE. She turned into a Bride-zilla. There's got to be a connection there somewhere ...

Anyway I will try and just not worry about it. I won't think about it today, fiddledee dee, I'll think about it tomorrow. I won't open the blinds.

Where are my sunnies?