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Sunday, March 22, 2015


If doing the same thing and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity, then any person who has ever cleaned their house is likely to be certifiable.

I spent the better part of three hours today scrubbing my floors and baseboards.  Like, on my knees, and not in the way that makes my husband really happy.  Moving furniture, sweeping with a broom AND a vacuum, physically scrubbing the floors till they shined...the whole nine yards.

Then the family came in from outside.

Now, it's spring.  I hate spring to the point I felt it necessary to document why on the Internet.  And while the weather is unseasonably cold so the ground is still frozen, the snow has already melted, and we have not gotten any rain for the past few days (AKA, no mud), there is still all kinds of shit to track in on my nice clean floors besides mud.  Like pine needles.  Dried, crumpled leaves from last fall.  Or dog hair.

Dear God, the dog hair.  Who had the great idea to get both a border collie/husky mix and a Malamute mix?  Plus a cat and a Jack Russell Terrier?  Animals fucking shed, people.  And its not all nice and contained like when a snake sheds their skin.  Oh, no.  That shit gets everywhere.  Even when the fuckers aren't in the house, I still find dog hair.  I've considered opening my own dog toupee making business or donating to Locks of Love, Doggy Style.  Is that a thing?  If it isn't it should be.  I'd totally donate, and not just because I am sick of the hair all over my house.  Strictly because the name is made of awesome.

It is always this way though.  I get the house clean and everyone around me comes and systematically undoes what I just did.  Then I fume and grumble, and clean it again.  And the cycle goes on and on, like the housekeeping version of Groundhog Day.

I'm really bad about making my family clean up after themselves.  Mostly because I know (and unfortunately they know) that I will go crazy with the mess way before they will.  And of course, no one in the house ever actually makes the mess.  It's the gremlins who apparently come out when I've just fucking cleaned to spill that juice on the floor and leave it for Mom to clean.  Because we just like to really fuck with her head and see exactly how well her meds are working today.  Those gremlins are ASSHOLES sometimes.  Why can't they do something useful, like leave random margaritas lying around the house instead of random dishes that you may or may not need a haz-mat suit on first to be able to safely put them in the dishwasher?

So yeah.  It makes me feel a little bit better, though, to know that at least some aspects of my crazy aren't unique to me.  It's the feeling of community and of having a tribe, doncha know?  You aren't in this fight alone.  You aren't the only one who secretly wishes the family would stay outside just for an hour longer so you can enjoy the fruits of your labor for more than 5 minutes.  You aren't the only one who despises the gremlins who anonymously leave a sticky, crumb filled trail of destruction in their invisible wakes.

Makes me wonder, though, if a better definition of insanity is doing the same thing, knowing the result you are going to get is not a satisfactory one, yet doing it anyways.  Either/or.  I think I've made my case.

Cleaning is insanity.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015


I never knew the sting of a contemptuous stare until I had to stand in line at DJFS to resubmit my paperwork for the voucher for daycare so I could finish college.

I never knew the frustration of wanting to defend myself to those people because I was getting government help until I had to pretend to hold my head high as I walked past them and heard their not so subtle comments about the teenage mother.

I never knew that fake tattoos only stay on a child's cheek forever if you have pictures scheduled until I had to scrub one off of a pissed off child.

I never knew the struggle of infertility until I lost pregnancy after pregnancy.

I never knew that there would be women jealous that I could even *get* pregnant until I lost pregnancy after pregnancy.

I never knew the knife that twisted in your heart as a bereaved parent until I had to pick up the remains of a dead child from the crematory.

I never knew the soul crushing weight of depression until the day I did not want to get out of bed.

I never knew the hurt of losing a pet until I had to bury a dog.

I never knew that alcohol was not, in fact, the answer until I woke up the next day with a splitting headache and vague memories of what (and who) I *think* I had done the night before.

I never knew the stats about sexual abuse were so under reported that they are practically useless because they do not show the true story until I started to hear the victim's stories.

I never knew that people with schizophrenia DO want to work until I saw it be done.

I never knew that it was so hard to be poor until I was actually poor myself and had to figure out how to feed my child.

I never knew that yes, it is important to get regular oil changes until I blew up the motor.

I never knew that the parents who's child is screaming in the aisles at the grocery store may not be lazy, worthless, abusive parents of said child but may have a special needs child.  Or a difficult child.  Or a child who is simply having a really bad day.

I never knew that children had so much personality until I started to work with them.

I never knew that I would be judged on the quality of my womanhood if I had my uterus removed, until I had it removed.

I never knew that the food I was eating was slowly killing me until I lost, then gained back, weight.

I never knew the extent that men feel entitled to women's bodies and the extent to which they feel free to comment, stare, and then be pissed when they don't get what they feel entitled to, until I lost a bunch of weight.

I never knew the price often exacted from our servicemen and women until I had family members have to pay that price.

I never knew the agony of sleepless nights worrying about money until I had to rob Peter to pay Paul who was robbed last month to pay Samuel...

I never knew how much I judged others until I realized how much I in turn was judged by others, despite feeling that I had no reason to be judged.

And...I never fully understood the idea of not judging other's battles until your hands are clean until I was judged, found lacking, and then realized that their hands were just as dirty as mine.