Originally published August 5, 2003
A day threatened for a decade has arrived: I sent for grad school friends Lynn and the revered Ehama-sama to collect an old debt. They're painting my house. For four days. Much as when I think of home, I think of Spokane and not Columbus, when I think of family, I often think of these two and not my biological kin. It's in this spirit, therefore, that I shall spend this week here listing the mothering and smothering sistering that transpires. Wow. How overwritten it that?
I predict that the first reference to my singleness will occur sometime midday Wednesday. Place your bets and watch this space. Here are the mounting motherings:
- It's ridiculous that you have caller ID on your cell phone, too. (Not that it comes without.)
- I'm not going to sleep in your bed and let you sleep on the couch. I insist on taking the couch, so that you can't possibly watch TV, use your computer, prepare my meals, clean up last night's dinner dishes, let the dog out, etc. until I wake up. So march right into that bedroom and wait for me to arise, you ingrate.
- It's piggish to throw that McDonald's bag into the back of the Jeep instead of storing down by the brake and gas pedals.
- The garden that you're tearing up in the fall needs to be weeded; oh, here I'll just do it.
- That vase/chair/table/painting/mirror/towel/stool/keys/trash can would work much better in this other room; oh, here, I'll just move it.
- It's piggish to have clean underwear in a basket in a closest. Here, I'll just bring your underwear out into the living room, show it to everyone so they can understand just how silly you are, and fold it.
- You rich fuck, who gets granite countertops?
- You're wearing that to paint?
- You're making me filet mignon? Make it medium rare and you eat too much meat.
- So. Does it ever get lonely, being single decade after decade like you are?
- I don't like that vase/music/TV show/bread/cereal/bubble bath/wall color/painting/plant/pot/soap/sandwich/centerpiece/fuse box location.
- You mean you're not going to remove that grating and clean it just because it's not visible unless someone moves the couch like I just did? Here, I'll just do it.
- You mean you're not going to get on your hands and knees and scrub the kitchen floor just because you're replacing it in two weeks? Here, I'll just do it.
- Your kitchen floor is disgusting, just disgusting. Not like when I pulled a dirty, damp, and unwashed cloth towel out of the washer—in which it had been incubating overnight—and wiped all kitchen utensils and food preparation surfaces with it.
- What do you mean, "There's some stuff in the trash can by the road that you could clean, too"? Now that would just be silly.