Wednesday, April 01, 2009
pipe cleaners should be called something else
This morning Orion and I were very nearly late for school. I didn't hear my alarm, because it's my phone, which was forgotten in another part of the house and likely rang its duty loudly and earnestly for no one to hear. He wolfed down a bit of Apple Jacks, then we had to look for matching socks in a huge basket of laundry waiting to sorted.
On the way home I wondered about my inability to 'get myself together' on the details. I miss my girlfriends. I keep wanting to call to make a date for lunch or coffee. I keep putting it off until I find time for a manicure or to 'do something' with my hair. How do they do it? I ask them sometimes. They make it a priority, they say, and they say they're not artists, as though all artists have paint on their clothes, unfashionably long hair and manicures to be hidden behind their skirts. To be fair, I have to consider that neither of them has children. Still, each time we get together they do lovingly and laughingly point out the mess I am.
At home, I can only seem to keep one part of the house clean at a time. There are the open living spaces, then the bedrooms and baths, then the studio. The three are never ordered at once. It's like a game of whack-a-mole. I don't iron anything unless I absolutely can't find something to wear that doesn't need it. I'd thought about hiring a housekeeper, just before the economy took a dive and I had to let the gardener go. And in the studio I'm working twice as hard to make slightly less money. My lists have sub-lists.
This is beginning to sound like one big whine, but it's not actually. I don't feel bad---more like observant. Likely this reflection is brought on by Aubrey's talk of her plans for the future, the life she'll build, how she'll live it. I remember thinking those things. I'd assumed that in my grown-up-middle aged- established future I'd be organized and all my plastic containers would have matching lids. I suppose I thought I'd be someone else.
But I'm not. I'm still fairly in touch and sympathetic with the person I was at nine. Probably I'd be better at organizing if I didn't go off on creative tangents or spontaneous backyard adventures. Forget balance. Tried that. You can't balance tangents or spontaneity. Okay . I can't.
So we got to school before the bell and Orion had all his homework, his teeth were brushed and his hair was mostly not at right angles. And we could argue that 'almost late' means 'on time.'
You may think this little reflection is about me, but it's not. It's about us. Because I know enough to know that this is what we humans do---yes, I mean you. We project our ideas into a future that's usually different when we get there, then we wonder where exactly the hell they went.
Posted by lisa at 8:20 AM