Does Anyone Like to Clean?

This last week I was reading Sophie Kinsella’s book I’ve got Your Number. In the story, the main character, Poppy, talks about her boyfriend’s parents, who are intellectuals with books all over the place and crappy housekeeping skills. I seriously read it and was like, “That’s an option?” Wow! I would love that! Focus on my writing, my projects, my garden, and just let the inside of the house fall to utter chaos and ruin. The idea is so appealing, all the muscles in my back simultaneously relax – even those tense ones in my shoulders that are always hard.

So, I wonder … I am excessively artistically inclined and would like to spend all my time creating this and doing up that, but is there anyone out there who would rather clean their house than make something? I can’t even fathom it. I can imagine people who would rather exercise and people who would rather do their career, but I can’t even compute wanting to clean. Tell me honestly; are the people who like to clean also the people who do jigsaw puzzles? Because I can’t imagine who does those either.

I’ve been thinking about cleaning because my washing machine broke down last week. I had laundry piled up already before I knew it was broke. The new ones are being delivered tomorrow and in the meantime, some of us have to wear clothes we’ve worn before. That I can handle. At least there’s been enough underwear to go around. It’s the towel situation that has me down.

The point is, I’d like to be all stubborn and let my house go to pot, but my knees crumble at the idea of using a dirty towel. Not only that, but my kids make me carry on. I found a piece of cheese abandoned on my couch today. You ever want to bonk yourself in the forehead and say, “That stupid kid!”? No? I knew it was just me. In any case, you can’t let that stuff slide. That’s not like a layer of dust on War and Peace. If you find that cheese in a week, you could have nightmares for the rest of your LIFE.

So, until tomorrow, I’ve developed this coping mechanism. I plan to be a brainy intellectual whose mind is above the cares of the world. I’m thinking about astrophysics and the deterioration of the morals of our time. Once I get a load of towels done, I’ll be back to pretending I’m Scarlet O’Hara saying ‘fiddle-dee-dee’ at everything. That is … until I discover another pain threshold – (aka. a waffle crammed between the fridge and the stove).

But still, just the idea of letting it all go makes me feel delirious with happiness. It’s like calling the Corey hotline or something. “Here are some words that rhyme with Corey … gory … glory … sad sob story …”

If I Pop

No. I’m not pregnant. Sheesh. You say the word ‘pop’ and everyone thinks you’re either going to have a baby or you ate too much. Well, I didn’t eat too much either. Man, would I like to eat too much though. Life is so hard.

Tonight, I feel like having a pity party. In my life, there isn’t much acknowledgement and when acknowledgement does come – I feel like a cat that just got petted the wrong way. When I’m being complimented, I often wonder if the person praising me thinks I’m intentionally making a martyr of myself. I’m here to tell you. I would never do that.

So in honour of my mood, I am going to write a list of irrelevant things that irritate me. I will not specify whether they irritate me a lot or a little.

1. Cold ankles. Why do they even make shoes that don’t come up over your ankle? Crazies.

2. Piercings. Haven’t you all figured out that the holes that naturally exist in your body cause you enough trouble without adding new ones?

3. People with degrees in music from universities … only because they’re cocky.

4. Lentils. Ew!

5. Readjusting baby seats.

6. Crumbs. Just put the whole thing in your mouth and then close your mouth, okay?

7. Hearing complaints about my layer cut.

8. Throwing coins into bottomless pits. I have to do this all the time in one metaphoric way after another.

9. Wait times in pharmacies when I can see the drug I want from where I’m at.

10. Getting my oil changed.

11. Hiring a babysitter. It’s only slightly less awkward when it comes time to pay them.

12. Purse sizes. What are women toting around in their enormous purses these days if they’re not carrying diapers? Knitting? Half a library? I can almost fit my laptop in my purse. And today, I hauled half way around the city carrying like ten plastic dinosaurs in my bag. Totally forgot they were there and carried them everywhere with me for no logical reason.

13. Post nasal drip. See what I mean about your head holes causing you trouble?

14. When people sew felt onto other kinds of fabric. Come on, people. Felt has like a tenth of the durability of other fabric and pills faster than lightning. Cut it out.

15. Snow White. It’s no little girl’s fantasy to live with seven dwarves. If it were, The Hobbit would have a larger teen girl audience.

16. Leaving an entire bag of groceries at the store. You’d think with my head being so screwy I’d lock my keys in my van too, but I never do that. I wonder why.

That’s enough of a rant for me. Thanks for listening.

Norse Gods Must be Easy

A few weeks ago Thor came out on Canadian Netflix and I watched it.

I gotta say – Norse gods looks super easy. Seriously, slap on a pair of false eyelashes and BOOM you got yourself a man of metal with a classy English accent and a road to the Heavens who knows how to keep his hands to himself until you give him the go-ahead. It’s so different with Greek gods. With them, it’s more like you’re on a mountainside playing with sheep. You harmlessly sit on a back of one and BOOM you’ve been placed on a secluded island and forced to bare at least four children to a god when you thought he was a sheep.

For a Norse god you can even fall prey to degrading female stereotypes about girls being poor drivers and hit him with your enormous van a couple times and the guy doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Well, just wait Thor II hasn’t come out yet. She’s probably going to need that huge van for all the baby seats.

Okay – jokes aside. I can’t get Thor out of my head. I have never read a Marvel comic in my life, but that doesn’t stop me from remembering the Norse mythology I’ve read. And from what I’ve read, I’m like WTFudgecycle. It’s a pretty sad day when the stories that are so old they are having trouble dating them are more amusing than a movie with a hundred million dollar budget. Couldn’t they afford writers?

I couldn’t care less about how Thor and Odin were portrayed; it was Loki that ticked me off. If I were to compare his character from mythology to a comic book bad guy, it would be the Joker. Loki is not always dark and sadistic, although sometimes he is. A lot of the time he’s charismatic and just messing with people for the fun of it and his jokes are harmless. The way he was made into this dark pathetic younger brother eating his heart out for jealousy was a total rip off. Loki can transform into anything and is just as much man as Thor – not beneath him in any way or trying to outdo him.

However, it is true that Loki is going to be the beginning of the end of the world – Ragnarok. Actually, Ragnarok begins with his fight with the guardian of the gate. I was shaking in my seat when I saw they were going to fight, but the audience didn’t know there was anything significant about that fight and all that happens is Loki freezes him and walks by.

I hate Marvel.

Not to mention, I think the man eye-candy is going to be better in The Hobbit. And that’s about a bunch of old dwarves wandering around in the woods.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

As most of you know, I live in Edmonton and in the winter it is pretty cold here. Thus my husband adapts to the weather by growing a beard. Now don’t get me wrong, he looks good in a beard. He has kind of a long face, thus goatees only make his face look longer – not really doing him any favours. The same goes for sideburns and most other ‘facial hair art’ that men are liable to exhibit. But a beard is quite nice as long as he keeps it trimmed. Anyhoo – guess what happens in the spring? That’s right – he shaves it off.

Ahhh ….

Seriously, no matter how dignified I think he looks in a beard, I’m always totally sucked into the charm of him clean shaven. With a beard he looks like he’s on the darker side of 35 and without, he looks like he’s 26. It’s so awesome! I lead such a pleasant life.

You know, I’m not an outdoor winter person. I don’t build snowmen, ski, toboggan, go on hay rides or go caroling. And that’s because I believe that all those things were invented by people who lived in more temperate climates. Up here, it’s hard to go trick-or-treating on Halloween for very long because the kids whine (and you inwardly whine) that it’s way too cold for it. In the winter, I get my sewing box out and preheat my oven and tuck in for about six months of NEVER GOING OUTSIDE unless I have to shovel the walk.

But my hubby does all sorts of winter things. He goes out and builds huge snow forts for the kids that are so large; he can go in with one of the kids at the same time. I go grocery shopping and he hauls all the bags in by himself (it involves a walk to and from our garage), so that I can heat up inside. He even practices archery in the darkest parts of winter. In short – that beard must be the difference between shivering so hard your kneecaps shatter and being like jolly old Saint Nick with a twinkle in his eye.

I should grow a beard next winter.