"Oh, thank goodness! It's just underwear!"
Dec. 1st, 2007 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
averygoodun42I. Yesterday
In the kitchen, I did start
The clearing of the trash
The blocks spilled out into the hallway,
were washed of their citrus scent
The stepstool was folded up,
no longer to tempt small hands and feet
to reach beyond the bounds of acceptability
or gravity
But the counters, they remained besmirched
for my attention did wander as
I heard the call of the vacuum demon
toward the living room, wanting its way
So into the den of destruction
my energies were pressed
the afternoon wore slowly on
while I cleared the toys and stuff.
And that is how I spent my day
While Babe amused himself
II. Poor David
David has been decapitated. It doesn't look it, as he is well supported right now, but jostle his frame and a slit appears around the throat. His head likes to stay right where it is, thank you very much, and has decided that it is better to part company with the body than suffer the indignities of being played with so roughly.
For Babe does play with the magnets rather roughly.
Of course, perhaps part of the split came due to indignities the body suffered at our hands. After all, most of the clothing that is on the fridge belongs to Venus. We've found that, for the most part, the two bodies are quite compatible. Style-wise. Just as long as they're separates. The dresses tend to reveal David's bits in awkward places, even if they aren't the rude bits.
Because of David's decapitation, he is now residing on the freezer. This keeps him out of reach of Babe's tenatious hands, while displaying his sense of style (or is that our sense of style?) to those who are tall enough to appreciate it.
And I do find it amusing that those who were appalled at Venus' lack of clothes (as she did tend to be a bit of an exhibitionist, but what can you expect from a Bougereau?), don't comment on David's apparel. Although David doesn't seem to lose his clothing quite so often. But even when he does, there seems to be less furor. Which, to use a British term, gets on my tits a bit.
But that is beside the point.
The point is, Venus seemed to frighten the adolescents, so she was replaced, for the time being, by David. Poor man. It must be horrible to be less of a threat to a young person's squeamish, puritanical nature than a young woman. What a damper on the ego.
And then to be dressed in that young woman's clothes...
Poor, poor David.
III. Today
The table was cleared, the floor was clean, and, by gosh, I realized it was the first of the month. Payday had come and gone, but the bills had yet to be paid.
Groaning, I took the pile to the roomy table and started sorting. This pile goes back in the drawer. This pile gets paid, and that is to be filed. Other papers were strewn about, but after the figurative outbox was filled, they, too, were sorted.
The deed done, I found myself in a not-so-happy frame of mind as has been a more and more common occurance of late on bill paying day. I suspect I'm not the only one to suffer the wrath of the checkbook.
Finding I had no patience left, I could no longer forestall my departure from the dratted house. My child, however, was in no mood to leave. He was in no mood to cooperate at all.
My temper snapped and I yelled at the child, waking my slumbering husband below. I was tempted at that point to just leave the place, handing resposibility of the child and all the dirty deeds required of that responsibility over to my husband right then, with no delay. But I thought that would be a cruel deed indeed, as my husband had been dreadfully overworked that week.
I cleaned my child's rear, perhaps a little less gently than usual, but that was my limit. I washed my hands of the child, house and money woes, and donned my coat, rushing off into the chill air with a tersely worded goodbye to husband and child. I was off, away from them, away from people.
I headed first to the post office, to drop off the bills, then to the library to return three items and procure two more. I then chose to shop for the finishing touches of a Christmas present, due to be given the next day.
For some reason, my 'alone time' hadn't calmed my temper much. I found my fists still clenching randomly.
I couldn't decide, at that point, whether to go home or to another store for my own pleasure. The store was on the way, and my thoughts of home were still bitter, so to the store I headed. But as I turned into the mall's parking lot, I saw the line into the parking lot itself was near overflowing. Knowing what crowded hell would wait for me at the store of choice, I turned around as quickly as possible and headed for home.
Upon entering my home, I found my husband and child happily at play, imitating trucks of all sorts, though the child's preference went to the trash carriers. I said hello, then quickly retreated into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. A strong, sweet, fortifying cup of tea, grabbing one of the books I had brought from the library, and reading while I waited.
Fifteen minutes later, the tea was gone and I settled myself into my bed with the book, eager to distance myself from all human beings in general, and my family in particular. My mood was still on the unhappy side.
Fortunately, I had chosen well, and the book reminded me of the benefits of laughter upon the soul. I perhaps did not laugh as loudly, nor as often, as usual, but by the end of two hours, the book was done and I felt I could approach my people without trying my temper too sorely.
As luck would have it, though, my family had moved their activities into the lowest level, leaving the untidy living room free. My eyes fell on my beloved computer, all alone without even a chair for company. I quickly found the chair and rolled it across the floor to the computer, but as I moved it, a spot was revealed.
A hideous black spot.
My mind quickly raced through all of the possible causes of such a spot, but there weren't many I knew of. The bananas were too new to be that dark, the spot too big to be a raisin and too flat to be a cluster. Applesauce could have been the culprit, but it takes days to turn that dark, and the floor had been clean only hours before.
Not knowing what it could possibly be, I leaned closer.
And felt relief.
"Oh, thank goodness," I breathed. "It's only underwear!"
In the kitchen, I did start
The clearing of the trash
The blocks spilled out into the hallway,
were washed of their citrus scent
The stepstool was folded up,
no longer to tempt small hands and feet
to reach beyond the bounds of acceptability
or gravity
But the counters, they remained besmirched
for my attention did wander as
I heard the call of the vacuum demon
toward the living room, wanting its way
So into the den of destruction
my energies were pressed
the afternoon wore slowly on
while I cleared the toys and stuff.
And that is how I spent my day
While Babe amused himself
II. Poor David
David has been decapitated. It doesn't look it, as he is well supported right now, but jostle his frame and a slit appears around the throat. His head likes to stay right where it is, thank you very much, and has decided that it is better to part company with the body than suffer the indignities of being played with so roughly.
For Babe does play with the magnets rather roughly.
Of course, perhaps part of the split came due to indignities the body suffered at our hands. After all, most of the clothing that is on the fridge belongs to Venus. We've found that, for the most part, the two bodies are quite compatible. Style-wise. Just as long as they're separates. The dresses tend to reveal David's bits in awkward places, even if they aren't the rude bits.
Because of David's decapitation, he is now residing on the freezer. This keeps him out of reach of Babe's tenatious hands, while displaying his sense of style (or is that our sense of style?) to those who are tall enough to appreciate it.
And I do find it amusing that those who were appalled at Venus' lack of clothes (as she did tend to be a bit of an exhibitionist, but what can you expect from a Bougereau?), don't comment on David's apparel. Although David doesn't seem to lose his clothing quite so often. But even when he does, there seems to be less furor. Which, to use a British term, gets on my tits a bit.
But that is beside the point.
The point is, Venus seemed to frighten the adolescents, so she was replaced, for the time being, by David. Poor man. It must be horrible to be less of a threat to a young person's squeamish, puritanical nature than a young woman. What a damper on the ego.
And then to be dressed in that young woman's clothes...
Poor, poor David.
III. Today
The table was cleared, the floor was clean, and, by gosh, I realized it was the first of the month. Payday had come and gone, but the bills had yet to be paid.
Groaning, I took the pile to the roomy table and started sorting. This pile goes back in the drawer. This pile gets paid, and that is to be filed. Other papers were strewn about, but after the figurative outbox was filled, they, too, were sorted.
The deed done, I found myself in a not-so-happy frame of mind as has been a more and more common occurance of late on bill paying day. I suspect I'm not the only one to suffer the wrath of the checkbook.
Finding I had no patience left, I could no longer forestall my departure from the dratted house. My child, however, was in no mood to leave. He was in no mood to cooperate at all.
My temper snapped and I yelled at the child, waking my slumbering husband below. I was tempted at that point to just leave the place, handing resposibility of the child and all the dirty deeds required of that responsibility over to my husband right then, with no delay. But I thought that would be a cruel deed indeed, as my husband had been dreadfully overworked that week.
I cleaned my child's rear, perhaps a little less gently than usual, but that was my limit. I washed my hands of the child, house and money woes, and donned my coat, rushing off into the chill air with a tersely worded goodbye to husband and child. I was off, away from them, away from people.
I headed first to the post office, to drop off the bills, then to the library to return three items and procure two more. I then chose to shop for the finishing touches of a Christmas present, due to be given the next day.
For some reason, my 'alone time' hadn't calmed my temper much. I found my fists still clenching randomly.
I couldn't decide, at that point, whether to go home or to another store for my own pleasure. The store was on the way, and my thoughts of home were still bitter, so to the store I headed. But as I turned into the mall's parking lot, I saw the line into the parking lot itself was near overflowing. Knowing what crowded hell would wait for me at the store of choice, I turned around as quickly as possible and headed for home.
Upon entering my home, I found my husband and child happily at play, imitating trucks of all sorts, though the child's preference went to the trash carriers. I said hello, then quickly retreated into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. A strong, sweet, fortifying cup of tea, grabbing one of the books I had brought from the library, and reading while I waited.
Fifteen minutes later, the tea was gone and I settled myself into my bed with the book, eager to distance myself from all human beings in general, and my family in particular. My mood was still on the unhappy side.
Fortunately, I had chosen well, and the book reminded me of the benefits of laughter upon the soul. I perhaps did not laugh as loudly, nor as often, as usual, but by the end of two hours, the book was done and I felt I could approach my people without trying my temper too sorely.
As luck would have it, though, my family had moved their activities into the lowest level, leaving the untidy living room free. My eyes fell on my beloved computer, all alone without even a chair for company. I quickly found the chair and rolled it across the floor to the computer, but as I moved it, a spot was revealed.
A hideous black spot.
My mind quickly raced through all of the possible causes of such a spot, but there weren't many I knew of. The bananas were too new to be that dark, the spot too big to be a raisin and too flat to be a cluster. Applesauce could have been the culprit, but it takes days to turn that dark, and the floor had been clean only hours before.
Not knowing what it could possibly be, I leaned closer.
And felt relief.
"Oh, thank goodness," I breathed. "It's only underwear!"
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no subject
Date: 2007-12-02 10:21 am (UTC)I laughed about David (poor dude - but then he's not actually sufficiently well-endowed to be really threatening, is he?; and a cross-dresser to boot) and sympathised over the experience of unfocused rage. I'm so glad you were able to have the space and means to deal with it, and then to write this all down with such a good punchline.
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2007-12-02 07:29 pm (UTC)