The Ugly Volvo (theuglyvolvo) wrote,
The Ugly Volvo
theuglyvolvo

Leaving

So I'm kind of excited about eventually moving out of the house, but not just for the normal reasons (I miss having my own apartment, I'm twenty-four and sleep in a bunk bed, I'm tired of commuting for an hour and a half into the city every day to do five minutes of stand-up)
I'm excited about leaving because finally it will be just my mother and my father living alone in the house. And my mom will finally have to admit that she makes part of the mess too.

Our house has always been unkempt to the point where sending in a relief effort would not have been entirely out of place. My father is exempt from blame since, being obsessive compulsive, the clutter nearly gives him a brain aneurysm, and he spends many of his free Saturdays straightening out the house because he "enjoys doing it" and "can't handle living here otherwise."

When my sisters and I were younger it was our age that got the blame.
"You try living with three kids, all under the age of 7."
As we got older, it was our age that got the blame.
"Have you ever had teenagers? Gah."
And as each of us left for college, the remaining members would wait to see if the house would suddenly become immaculate, allowing us to pin the blame on the person recently departed.

I drop my mother hints when I straighten up the kitchen (on the off chance my father has not done it already.) I say, "I couldn't clean up a lot of this because I just don't know where it belongs. None of this is my stuff." And she always nods and takes her things and shovels them into a drawer as if she were brushing sand into a garbage can.
And she has admitted that she is messy-- she has come clean on that, at least, but she has not admitted that she is the main person making the house messy, and that is what I need her to realize. If I leave my backpack on the counter, it is "making the kitchen look sloppy" and therefore encouraging her to just "leave her coupons lying around" and "leave her grocery bags lying around" and "leave the contents of her purse lying around." So I am the one at fault here. She is blameless, despite the fact that, in contrast to my father's militarily organized side of the closet, her side looks like someone has either organized a last minute garage sale or robbed a 99 cent store.

I can't wait to someday come home as a visitor from my own apartment; to arrive in the well-known clutter and finally confront my mom about it. To comment on the house's continued state of disarray, only to have her respond, "Well Karen was visiting a couple weeks ago and the house hasn't fully recovered since..."


But I will never be able to move out, so this whole entry is really a moot point.
Subscribe

  • I Have a New Blog Because Hey, It's Not 2003 Anymore

    I started this blog when I was 23 and moving from Los Angeles back home to New York. I was young and had no idea what I was doing with my life. It's…

  • An Actual Conversation We Had This Morning

    So I go to the tub this morning to see a tiny black bug—no bigger than a tomato seed and teardrop shaped—crawling around near the drain of our white…

  • They grow up so fast

    My mother and I are sitting in her glacier-colored Volkswagon Passat, outside a Panera Bread in the parking lot of a strip mall. She is on her lunch…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 18 comments

  • I Have a New Blog Because Hey, It's Not 2003 Anymore

    I started this blog when I was 23 and moving from Los Angeles back home to New York. I was young and had no idea what I was doing with my life. It's…

  • An Actual Conversation We Had This Morning

    So I go to the tub this morning to see a tiny black bug—no bigger than a tomato seed and teardrop shaped—crawling around near the drain of our white…

  • They grow up so fast

    My mother and I are sitting in her glacier-colored Volkswagon Passat, outside a Panera Bread in the parking lot of a strip mall. She is on her lunch…