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Sliding towards entropy
Dec. 10th, 2013 10:12 amOn Orcas, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scrottie and I visited with his friend CJ, and CJ's family. While we ate a delicious breakfast, CJ's wife, H, told us a story about her home's state of disarray. There have been periods where H has been the sole family breadwinner, and when she's working under a deadline to finish an illustration, she has to tune out all of the other distracting items on her "to do" list, including the miscellaneous housekeeping projects that are her husband's domain. In the midst of all this, she said, there was a point where she got a phone call from her realtor, who wanted to come over to see the house. When H cautioned the realtor about the house's state of mess, the realtor dismissed the concerns and said she'd come by anyway. H said she suspected the realtor considered a "messy house" to be one where there's still a huge pile of clean laundry sitting on the couch, waiting to be folded, but their house was in a different state of mess altogether. When the realtor arrived, her eyebrows went way up, and as she picked up a banana peel off the kitchen counter (left there by one of H's daughters), she gave H a look, as if to say it was all H's fault. As H pointed out, probably the realtor meant to imply that it was CJ's fault for not having a pair of boobs.
But H was also clear about a couple of her household priorities. While mess was okay, she was careful to make sure the house was safe for her daughters: no broken glass or toxic chemicals anywhere. The family also has multiple pets, but they were all well-cared for as well (almost *too* well - the young chickens got relocated into one of the bathrooms when their heat lamp went out, which is nice for the chickens but unpleasant for the home occupants).
This whole story will stick with me for a while. H's daughters enjoy aspects of the chaos - it's easier to turn the dining room table into a miniature pasture for the stuffed animals when one isn't being chased around by one's parents to clean up. They did a tremendous job of making up a bed for myself and S, even providing us with a lovely arrangement of stuffed animals, which reminded me of a story my father tells about me arranging so many stuffed animals on my bed that he wasn't sure where I would fit.
I thought about this story while tackling my own list of miscellaneous household "to do" projects this morning before heading in to work. I took a few extra minutes to scrub out the kitchen sink and put the frost-sensitive plants outside for some sunlight, but haven't yet fixed Froinlavin's flat tire or polished my shoes or gotten organized about a half-dozen things I want to make or order online. Traveling is always a nice break from this fiddly list.
I tend to clean when I'm stressed out or procrastinating from projects, so I tend to keep my house in a different state from H and CJ's house. But I can understand how they operate.
scrottie and I visited with his friend CJ, and CJ's family. While we ate a delicious breakfast, CJ's wife, H, told us a story about her home's state of disarray. There have been periods where H has been the sole family breadwinner, and when she's working under a deadline to finish an illustration, she has to tune out all of the other distracting items on her "to do" list, including the miscellaneous housekeeping projects that are her husband's domain. In the midst of all this, she said, there was a point where she got a phone call from her realtor, who wanted to come over to see the house. When H cautioned the realtor about the house's state of mess, the realtor dismissed the concerns and said she'd come by anyway. H said she suspected the realtor considered a "messy house" to be one where there's still a huge pile of clean laundry sitting on the couch, waiting to be folded, but their house was in a different state of mess altogether. When the realtor arrived, her eyebrows went way up, and as she picked up a banana peel off the kitchen counter (left there by one of H's daughters), she gave H a look, as if to say it was all H's fault. As H pointed out, probably the realtor meant to imply that it was CJ's fault for not having a pair of boobs.But H was also clear about a couple of her household priorities. While mess was okay, she was careful to make sure the house was safe for her daughters: no broken glass or toxic chemicals anywhere. The family also has multiple pets, but they were all well-cared for as well (almost *too* well - the young chickens got relocated into one of the bathrooms when their heat lamp went out, which is nice for the chickens but unpleasant for the home occupants).
This whole story will stick with me for a while. H's daughters enjoy aspects of the chaos - it's easier to turn the dining room table into a miniature pasture for the stuffed animals when one isn't being chased around by one's parents to clean up. They did a tremendous job of making up a bed for myself and S, even providing us with a lovely arrangement of stuffed animals, which reminded me of a story my father tells about me arranging so many stuffed animals on my bed that he wasn't sure where I would fit.
I thought about this story while tackling my own list of miscellaneous household "to do" projects this morning before heading in to work. I took a few extra minutes to scrub out the kitchen sink and put the frost-sensitive plants outside for some sunlight, but haven't yet fixed Froinlavin's flat tire or polished my shoes or gotten organized about a half-dozen things I want to make or order online. Traveling is always a nice break from this fiddly list.
I tend to clean when I'm stressed out or procrastinating from projects, so I tend to keep my house in a different state from H and CJ's house. But I can understand how they operate.
