Neatness persona

I admire people who can actually put things in order i.e. schedule their day, segregate stuff in nifty designer boxes (and actually label them!), fold towels ( in a well structured manner) and make sure they ALWAYS hang where they should, make little sweet golden butter cookies, water their plants and fertilize them with regularity, tie cutesy ribbonettes on their poochie poodles, pull out the weeds on time. There is surety and confidence in this.

Not that I’m a slob and toss things around, or actually will my plants to die……Just that, really…some people are soooooo admirably…organized. I walk into their homes and everything is NEATNESS…I just breathe in this air of neat superiority …wow!...

I remember Auntie Clara particularly. Her house was the epitome of. the phrase…” a hundred percent germ free!”…Everything was disinfected.....her floors smelled of Lysol Pine hospital bleach. Whenever I visited, ( dragged on by my foster mom so my cousin Molly could play with me) I was most definitely not allowed to bring in my lovely sunflower slippers. In fact, if she ( my Aunt Clara) could help it, ( according to my mom and I believe her on this) no one was to be allowed inside her house…people contaminate the environment …When I was 15, Uncle Thor ( yep’ that’s his name) left her for a lady he met at a tennis match. With their children all grown and living overseas in California…the house must be a haven of sanitization by now.

My Auntie Mama, oh yes….. She’s the eldest sister of my foster mom…you should see her house. Everything in wood…shinning shimmering dust free…waxed to oblivion…My sister, brother and I spent a summer with her. No playing allowed. I remember defying her…Told my sister to sit on the chair with the wheels. I pushed the chair round’ and round’ the living room…didn’t notice that it left screech marks on the floor. ...I got the butt flak for that. Plus, I waxed and scrubbed till my legs gave out. She never had any children. My Uncle Adam ( my aunt’s hubby) died of liver cancer in his 50’s…too much brandy I suppose. So now…..15 years after….the house still stands there.. …abandoned, stained, weeding….She doesn’t live there anymore…Moved in with my granny who is 98. Convenience sake.

I pride myself for managing my home. People come in and they utter …”uuuu…how cute!”…I look at a place, a spot, a corner, a nook, a box and I see…potential…Potential for what it could possibly turn out to be after it passes through my hands. I try to be the same way with people…I look at them…what they are…and see…potential…no matter what circumstance, what age, what gender…Everyone a potential for greatness. everyone a potential friend. Sometimes I get into trouble for this. I should be more discriminating in my taste of friends I was told when I was 13. I was never allowed to play with the neighborhood children. They fling obscenities and don’t bathe properly according to my mom. They don’t speak English as well…Besides , the boys look at you in a funny way, you’d get duped……you’re so gullible, you’d believe everything they say. I don't know which confused me more. My lack for taste in choosing company, or my talent for being believing in what people say.

So… stay indoors I did…I never played with anyone. But…I had other ways of making fun.

Anyway, back to the home….my home.

So now, I’m trying to be organized…more focused…boxing things and letting some go….I hate letting go….I don’t throw things away…Nothing I have is useless…So I’m thinking of people who will adopt my stuff…books, knick knacks, an old loved sweater, a blue knitted hat…I know somebody will love them…

I can’t wrap people though…I don’t give those away…..

unless…..

I guess, they are the ones who sweep and dust me away…