Saturday, November 11, 2006

Feng Shui and Me

Who says I don't have any sense of elegance in my home decorating? Well, most people, but I really don't care.

Why, what's on the shelf above YOUR computer? Tiffany glass and Hummels? Crystal picture frames with studio poses and Easter outfits?

Not me. For one thing, they'd be covered with dust and chipped, and for another, I'd rather have poorly-trimmed pictures of my kids in clothes that I actually recognize, and the Abominable Snowman, covered with dust but unscathed.

I especially like the "formal" and "natural" contrast in their poses.

And if you want dust, friends, I can give you DUST.

The thing is, you see, that this shelf is way taller than I am, and I really can't see the dust unless I stand on a chair and look the gargoyle smack in the eye, and even then, I am so mesmerized by his cuteness that I don't really notice the dust.

Except, of course, when I decide to post a picture of him and realize the horrendous disgracefulness of my housekeeping skills.

Oh, well, when you come to visit, you won't be able to see the dust, either, unless you're seven feet tall, in which case, grab a dustcloth and give me a hand, wouldja please? And while you're reaching up there, would you mind picking up all those comic books that fell over, and relining them against the back wall of the shelf? I'd really appreciate it.

The things I can reach are usually pretty clean. It's the things that I can't reach that tend to collect dust by the inches. I am the shortest person in this house, remember, and the tall people here don't see dust because they don't want to see dust and don't care about dust when they do see it. I care, but I can't see it if it's a foot above my reach.

That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

Speaking of sticking to it, I really need to do something about the kitchen floor some time today if I remember when I'm in there and if I'm barefooted to feel the stickiness and if I can remember where I put the Swiffer when the company was coming and I hid everything so they'd think I was tidy. . . . .