My Relaxation station.( About a month ago I threw out an old 6X9 rug that got too disgusting and you wouldn't believe how many pairs of shoes I found that I thought were lost!)
There was a time in my life that I considered myself a rather neat person. A place for everything and everything in it's place. Well, that's mostly over now. Over the years I've learned by living alone, that the best place for things are where they are easiest to get to.
I was raised in a family that thought cleanliness was secondary to many other things and it revolted me, the confusion that existed within the household. I went out on my own at a very early age and set a new precedent of immaculate cleanliness. Here was my problem. I couldn't find a woman that lived up to my rigid expectations and although I was willing to make the effort myself, I found their messy habits a hindrance.
I lived happily in my almost perfect bachelor palace until I was 22, when I met my first wife. She was 23 and had lived her entire life with her parents, her mother being just the type of person I wanted. I thought certainly that the apple didn't fall too far from the tree, but I was wrong that time. Although I still maintained a healthy clean personal environment, my wife's personal areas looked as though we'd experienced a disaster and worse yet, she was too lazy to do anything about it. As children came along, they were raised in throes of chaos. If you were hungry, you looked in the fridge for food. If you needed clean socks, you looked in the dryer. Towels were piled up in a mess on the dining room table. One time I turned on the oven to heat up a pizza. To my surprise, that was where she hid dirty dishes when her family visited. Can you see the grounds for divorce forming yet?
One time, one of the kids spilled a Coke or Pepsi on the kitchen table and it was the type where you could put a leaf into it, meaning it had a crack down the center of the table. The soda dripped down onto the floor and was never wiped up. Eventually dirt, dog fur, and slow moving insects would get stuck in it. It became a dark spot on the floor in my kitchen. Each day when I'd come home from work and enter through the kitchen door, that was the first place my eyes would settle and I would begin to seethe.. One day, after many months of looking at that spot, I came in and exploded. I insisted she take the kids out to a movie or somewhere, so I could clean the house. Naturally, I began with the spot under the kitchen table.
Eventually the Princess of Dirt and I parted company in a court of law and she went her way to destroy the homes of several other men. I met wife number 2, the Queen of Clean. This girl couldn't go to sleep if there was anything out of place. At first I thought this was amusing that I was able to find my match for housekeeping. After awhile, it really got on my nerves having her wash the screen on the TV as I watched the Suns play. That marriage didn't last too long unfortunately. I think it was when she packed the Windex to take with on vacation to a 5 star resort that ruined it for me. Would you believe she used it to clean our hotel room window? That divorce happened in 1991.
In 1992 I bought the house that I currently reside in. It was my dream house. Although I know there are bigger, better houses out there, to me this is as good as it got. At the time, it was just my son and myself needing a roof over our heads, but I had worked hard and could afford it at the time, so I figured why not? It's a sprawling 3500 square feet with exotic island landscaping, a billiard room, a master bedroom that you can bowl in and 4 other bedrooms that have never been used, really. The dogs and I wander around this house aimlessly looking for homeless people that have taking up residence here. It has a swimming pool that I haven't used in years and the cover hasn't been off of the pool table since I got these dogs 10 years ago. (Bogie grabs the balls and runs away.)
I bought this house new and designed it myself, adding tile floors and window treatments as desired. I kept this immaculately. I was washing something or vacuuming something else, constantly.. I was happy, content, had tried marriage and it didn't work for me. I think it was my son that pointed out that the chances of me meeting a woman in this house were rather remote and that perhaps I should venture out into the world. I did. In Feb, 1996, I met my third and last wife. We married in November of that year, waiting about 10 months to get to know one another. During that time, I learned a lot about myself as well as she. I felt that I really knew her when we moved in together as husband and wife. Although we had spent probably about 4 or 5 nights a week together, you really don't get to know a person until you live together. I knew that Debra's house was truly messy, but she had me convinced it was her dirty sister that kept it that way and within their family circle, Debra was known as the clean freak. This pleased me, truly. Debra moved in on 11/02/1996 and NEVER lifted a finger to help with anything aside from occasionally washing the dishes after me mentioning repeatedly that I do all of the cooking she could at least help with the dishes. One day, I went upstairs to get something and there was my lovely new wife who had just gotten ready for work. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that we had 20 different cabinets in our master bedroom bath and every one of the cabinet doors was ajar and towels were hanging over them and her make-up was thrown around the counters and about a week's worth of dirty clothes were strewn onto the floor and Debra was ready to leave. With a quick kiss on the cheek, she was gone. I stood there over my once clean bedroom bathroom, planing my next move. Whatever move I chose, must have been the wrong one, because that marriage ended in November of 2001, after right at 5 years..
I've been single for about 7 years now. No one bothers me with their messes. If I don't feel like doing the dishes at night, I don't. I pick up the yard almost everyday, after all, they're Great Danes. Some times I make the bed, other times I don't. I have become what you might call sedimentary and I just don't care!
I was raised in a family that thought cleanliness was secondary to many other things and it revolted me, the confusion that existed within the household. I went out on my own at a very early age and set a new precedent of immaculate cleanliness. Here was my problem. I couldn't find a woman that lived up to my rigid expectations and although I was willing to make the effort myself, I found their messy habits a hindrance.
I lived happily in my almost perfect bachelor palace until I was 22, when I met my first wife. She was 23 and had lived her entire life with her parents, her mother being just the type of person I wanted. I thought certainly that the apple didn't fall too far from the tree, but I was wrong that time. Although I still maintained a healthy clean personal environment, my wife's personal areas looked as though we'd experienced a disaster and worse yet, she was too lazy to do anything about it. As children came along, they were raised in throes of chaos. If you were hungry, you looked in the fridge for food. If you needed clean socks, you looked in the dryer. Towels were piled up in a mess on the dining room table. One time I turned on the oven to heat up a pizza. To my surprise, that was where she hid dirty dishes when her family visited. Can you see the grounds for divorce forming yet?
One time, one of the kids spilled a Coke or Pepsi on the kitchen table and it was the type where you could put a leaf into it, meaning it had a crack down the center of the table. The soda dripped down onto the floor and was never wiped up. Eventually dirt, dog fur, and slow moving insects would get stuck in it. It became a dark spot on the floor in my kitchen. Each day when I'd come home from work and enter through the kitchen door, that was the first place my eyes would settle and I would begin to seethe.. One day, after many months of looking at that spot, I came in and exploded. I insisted she take the kids out to a movie or somewhere, so I could clean the house. Naturally, I began with the spot under the kitchen table.
Eventually the Princess of Dirt and I parted company in a court of law and she went her way to destroy the homes of several other men. I met wife number 2, the Queen of Clean. This girl couldn't go to sleep if there was anything out of place. At first I thought this was amusing that I was able to find my match for housekeeping. After awhile, it really got on my nerves having her wash the screen on the TV as I watched the Suns play. That marriage didn't last too long unfortunately. I think it was when she packed the Windex to take with on vacation to a 5 star resort that ruined it for me. Would you believe she used it to clean our hotel room window? That divorce happened in 1991.
In 1992 I bought the house that I currently reside in. It was my dream house. Although I know there are bigger, better houses out there, to me this is as good as it got. At the time, it was just my son and myself needing a roof over our heads, but I had worked hard and could afford it at the time, so I figured why not? It's a sprawling 3500 square feet with exotic island landscaping, a billiard room, a master bedroom that you can bowl in and 4 other bedrooms that have never been used, really. The dogs and I wander around this house aimlessly looking for homeless people that have taking up residence here. It has a swimming pool that I haven't used in years and the cover hasn't been off of the pool table since I got these dogs 10 years ago. (Bogie grabs the balls and runs away.)
I bought this house new and designed it myself, adding tile floors and window treatments as desired. I kept this immaculately. I was washing something or vacuuming something else, constantly.. I was happy, content, had tried marriage and it didn't work for me. I think it was my son that pointed out that the chances of me meeting a woman in this house were rather remote and that perhaps I should venture out into the world. I did. In Feb, 1996, I met my third and last wife. We married in November of that year, waiting about 10 months to get to know one another. During that time, I learned a lot about myself as well as she. I felt that I really knew her when we moved in together as husband and wife. Although we had spent probably about 4 or 5 nights a week together, you really don't get to know a person until you live together. I knew that Debra's house was truly messy, but she had me convinced it was her dirty sister that kept it that way and within their family circle, Debra was known as the clean freak. This pleased me, truly. Debra moved in on 11/02/1996 and NEVER lifted a finger to help with anything aside from occasionally washing the dishes after me mentioning repeatedly that I do all of the cooking she could at least help with the dishes. One day, I went upstairs to get something and there was my lovely new wife who had just gotten ready for work. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that we had 20 different cabinets in our master bedroom bath and every one of the cabinet doors was ajar and towels were hanging over them and her make-up was thrown around the counters and about a week's worth of dirty clothes were strewn onto the floor and Debra was ready to leave. With a quick kiss on the cheek, she was gone. I stood there over my once clean bedroom bathroom, planing my next move. Whatever move I chose, must have been the wrong one, because that marriage ended in November of 2001, after right at 5 years..
I've been single for about 7 years now. No one bothers me with their messes. If I don't feel like doing the dishes at night, I don't. I pick up the yard almost everyday, after all, they're Great Danes. Some times I make the bed, other times I don't. I have become what you might call sedimentary and I just don't care!
Mel
6/08/08
2 comments:
Sounds very familiar - i wobble about in a 5 bdr, 3000+ sq ft house with my canine life partner, and perhaps a family of gypsies in the downstairs somewhere (i hear funny noises sometimes - accordians and tambourines)...
there is happiness in flying solo!
Geez, I live in the tiniest apartment in SoFla for which I spend a tiny fortune. I am forever in fear of Palmetto bugs coming to roost, so I NEVER let dishes sit or trash stay in a can or leave the floor unswept or mopped. I finally have my own place for the first time in forever, and the mere thought of a tropical creature hankering to be my roommate has turned me into a neat freak. Not fair!
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