I am anxious to get to a giant anamorphous/yesmakingupmyownwordsagain pisanous pile of newspapers, news magazines, Life:Beautiful, and CA history, but as the 'walls' of numerous due-dates are closing in, so the walls of my home are also. And this, just found on someone's iMac desktop, tho three months old, fits my present state of mind; reminds me that my children learned passive aggression AND NOT SO PASSIVE aggression, from none other than their mother.
That would be Me.
I confess.
That would be Me.
I confess.
Holy God,
Friend.
Friend.
Heal us all.
Help. Mend.
Help. Mend.
"10/2010
My dear SLB:
I removed the sewing bags from the living room weeks ago when someone was cramming stuff between the wall and the couch, not caring that parcels were spilling out, a file box was gaping (it was never welcome to stay there in the first place), and someone's empty beverage containers were rolling around the vicinity. So I took action as a matter of self defense against apathy. I hate apathy, and I think you do too.
You never brought the matter up with me, you simply returned your sewing stuffs back to the place from which I had removed them.
I hear they call that being “passive aggressive.”
I hear they call that being “passive aggressive.”
Worried that my desire to control your stuff is a desire to control you?
Man-Up and ask me! You'll get a question in return: "Is my desire to control this home meant to communicate that it's not yours to control?" Um, yauh! Controlling Females. Somewhere, there's a ballad by that name; a book by that title; a sestina by that theme...
Man-Up and ask me! You'll get a question in return: "Is my desire to control this home meant to communicate that it's not yours to control?" Um, yauh! Controlling Females. Somewhere, there's a ballad by that name; a book by that title; a sestina by that theme...
I feel claustrophobic when things touch the walls. There it is. I am neurotic. Besides that, our tolerance for clutter is starting to relax so much that all the purses on barstools, books on tables and magazines on bars are not bothering me like they used to. I find this alarming! (Does nothing matter anymore? That’s a sign of depression. I’d rather clean up the clutter than go on anti-depressants.)
So, if you want your small room to feel less small, store your excess in the art room, garage loft, or a rented storage unit.
Thank you for trying harder than the rest of us to make things harmonious and artful, God breathed and holy. You rock, but notSoMuch when you resort to my old freakish methods of agresion con pasion.
Love you,
Mom."
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