Be Glad We Aren't Your Neighbors
When I drove back home from dropping off my daughter at a sleepover, I couldn't help but mentally review the beauty of her new friend's house: a big, new brick home with modern, sleek interior perfectly clean and void of clutter. Dreamy. When my husband came back from picking her up the next day, he was equally impressed. We both spent a few moments wishing we could upgrade to a new lifestyle, a new neighborhood, a house like that and a car to match.
Now, this may not seem to relate, but it's taken us a few years to finally break down and order a recycling bin from our trash service company. Prior to that, we'd load up the back of the van and haul it up to the county recycling center once a month.
Not long after our envy-driven discussion about houses and lifestyles, my husband came back in from the garage where he'd dropped an empty milk carton, several bottles, two cereal boxes and some empty cans into our new container. "We're going to fill that recycling bin pretty quickly each week," he reported after inspection. "We'll have to be sure to crush it before we put it in there. Otherwise we'll have to get a second bin, like the neighbors."
"Crush it?"
"Well, crush the cans, mainly."
"Oh, I was imagining you could get in it and jump up and down. You could do that. It might even be fun!"
He burst out laughing. "You're serious aren't you?"
"Wouldn't it be fun? We could do that. It'd be like crushing grapes."
"Oh Ann," he shook his head. "Just the fact that you seriously consider jumping up and down on the recycling--and think it would be fun--shows that you don't belong in a house like that one!"
You think he's right? You think it's never occurred to that dreamy-house mom to jump up and down in her recycling bin to avoid ordering a second one?
Heavens, now that I think about it, maybe I don't even belong in this house! What would the neighbors think if they caught me sticking halfway out the top of the recycling bin, stomping, laughing, packing everything down before rolling it to the curb?
Maybe it's good we have a privacy fence.
2 Comments:
Found my way here by way of Jenne. And this post struck me. My house is in a newish neighborhood with a "modern, sleek interior perfectly clean and void of clutter." Funny thing is, we do stomp on our recycling, along with a huge variety of other embarassing things. And so do all our neighbors. We just don't do it all as openly, I suppose. Maybe that's why there are so many stress-related disorders. When I tell you that well over half the women I know here are on anti-depressants, I'm NOT exaggerating.
Oh, and keeping my house void of clutter? If I could let it get messier, I think it would be a healthy choice.
So maybe there are many closet bin-stompers after all, lowering their garage doors and donning work boots before compacting it in private on trash day? Fascinating.
What would it take to reveal our quirks (is that the right word?) and discover how much we have in common? If we could manage to raise the garage door or pull back the curtain and open our lives in such a way that we expose our messiness--whether literal or figurative--would it free us emotionally and relationally? Or would my garage, my recycling, my clutter-filled life offend people? I'm sure it's all more complicated than raising the garage door. You got me thinking, that's all.
And just so you know, you're always welcome to my excess clutter...to give your sleek, modern interior that healthy lived-in look. :)
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