Actually, I got a brand new bag too…I love my new pocketbook, and yes, I do call it that. I am excited every time I have to open it, which is frequently since every time I take a breath, money is leaving me and landing in someone’s cash register.
I want to talk about the man at the bagel shop, laundry and my dysfunctional family but I can’t decide which order to put them in… I would also like to throw in the discussion of the fact that I am now concluding that things, people and circumstances really never change no matter what you do.
Let’s discuss the man in the bagel shop first. Today, after having my blood removed through a tiny little hole in my arm for the third time in a week ( by Quest Diagnostics, unfortunately not by Edward from Twilight whom I would challenge any 14 year old to a crush-duel) I stopped into the really bad Bagel Shop next door for some coffee and a really bad bagel… as I was walking in, a 30-ish man was walking out. He had CP- I could tell by his gait and the way he was holding himself. He was taking a seat at one of the outdoor tables next to a stranger because there was no where else to sit. As he approached the table, he said something friendly to the other man and then promptly spilled his coffee in the exact same way Max spills things. You might be thinking, how many ways are there to spill things? Who knows, but there is a slow, precise way that Max spills things – as if spilling them is the last thing that one might think would happen, but then… ooops, it spills anyway.
Its like the things he touches suddenly have CP too. Max is so used to spilling things that it doesn’t even startle him. This man spilled the coffee and also seemed so used to spilling things that he barely reacted. I was walking in and got him some napkins and wanted to say, ” Hey man who spilled coffee, can I help you clean it up because I love you….?” I suddenly loved him as if he were a grown up version of Max. If we are lucky, Max will maybe someday walk just like this man did and take himself to a really bad bagel shop and spill his own coffee too. I pretended to drink my coffee outside while I stared at him for a while trying to send him a telepathic message. I wanted to know whether he drank coffee because him mom drank a lot of coffee while she made his way in the world just like I do. I wanted to ask him where he was going and where he was coming from. I watched his hands on his egg and bacon sandwich – and they looked like Max’s hands… smaller, slower and more gentle than average. I looked at his cell phone attached to his belt and wondered whom he calls, who calls him, where he works. I wanted to know what his parents did to help him. I wanted to know if he is happy, does he like his bad bagel sandwich, and whether life is ok for him. He was bald and had a goatee and wore black clothes. I really just wanted to talk to him… but I didn’t. I hope he liked his sandwich and wasn’t upset about spilling his coffee.
I am coming back to this post several days later because I wanted to finish it. I am totally committed to recording my every thought..obviously, I should be committed… ( get it?)
So, on to laundry…I lament the fact that I am slightly obsessed with having things organized – but not to the point of ever actually staying organized. I do have a neat house, a clean house and a fairly organized one, but there are several lapses in the structure- like fault lines before an earthquake. The only thing that keeps the house this way is constant and total attention to it. If I stray or am distracted at all, the entire house of cards seems to fall. The entire past school year existed in that state of fallen cards. The age-old tradition of “keeping house” was completely lost on me. There was not a hint of Heloise in anything I did. I would have liked to have been ok with that, but it was a constant nagging stressor. It was so bad that at one point at new-ish, neater friend who had not been to our home during the “greater generations” actually walked through the kitchen, and playroom and and said, ” It’s so great that you actually take time to play with your kids and enjoy them instead of cleaning up all the time…” Translation, ” you must be one of “those” moms whose house is a mess and mine is so much neater that I cannot wait to get home!”
That was it… as soon as I became the person whose home looked as if I actually played with my kids or fed them organic food, it was time for an overhaul. I vowed to overcome the clutter and the mess and make it appear as though no one eats, plays or lives in this home!!! I have been blessed with a great deal of free time in the last two weeks because of CAMP ( glorious, beautiful, overpriced, indulgent spoiled jewish summer fun) and I have put it to use. I am the queen of laundry. I wash, dry fold and put away everything every single day. Do not even try to stop me. I will not be stopped. I am thrilled. Wait.. the clothes I am wearing right now are dirty… I must wash them!