Inertia

J and I seem to suffer from inertia. I'm not sure where it came from, or how we caught it (is it contagious??), but suffer from it we do.



in·er·tia (i-nûrsh-a) n.


1. inertness, esp. with regard to effort, motion, action, and the like; inactivity; sluggishness.
2. Resistance or disinclination to motion, action, or change
3. the tendency of a body to maintain its state of rest or uniform motion unless acted upon by an external force




I don't know how else to explain the lack of motion that seems to permeate our life. Now, I'm not a science major, not by a long shot. I majored in English and Secondary Education in college. Both degrees come from the College of Liberal Arts. I could be using this word wrong, but I sort of doubt it. You be the judge.





Exhibit 1: The CLEAN dishes that have been in the dishwasher for three days waiting for J to put them away. We have a deal: I load the dishwasher and wash the dishes, and he dries and puts away the dishes. I hate to dry and put them away, and J doesn't mind that. I don't mind washing or loading the dishwasher, but it hurts J's back to stand at the sink because he's seven feet tall. It works out perfectly...in theory. In practice, not so much. Some day, when I am rich and famous, I will have a house that has a dishwasher that will unload itself. I will love it.

Exhibit 2: The DIRTY dishes that have been multiplying for three days while waiting for J to empty the dishwasher. I could be a good wife and just do it myself, but I'm not and I won't. Some day, when I am rich and famous, I will have a personal cook who will take care of cleaning the kitchen for us. He (or she) will cook us healthy meals and keep the kitchen so clean you could eat off the floor, and I will love him (or her).




Exhibits 3 and 4: The newspapers on the living room floor. I think it's fine to leave them on the floor while you are reading it. But after you finish, they should get picked up and recycled. EVERY DAY. J thinks it's fine to continue to add to the pile (or to create a new pile as illustrated in Exhibit 4) throughout the week as garbage / recycle day is Monday. Why pick it up today if it won't be taken care of until next Monday? Some day, when I am rich and famous, I will have a housekeeper who will follow along behind J and pick up his messes as he makes them. She will be quiet and unobtrusive, extremely neat and organized, and I will love her.





Exhibit 5: The mess in my craft room. While most of the mess in the house is truly J's (though he will deny it vehemently and point out my backpack and jacket in the kitchen), this is all me. I just don't have the storage I need to be able to function well in this room. Every time I get it cleaned up, in a matter of days it's like this again. Someday, when I am rich and famous I will have a house with a room for just crafting. It will have shelves and drawers and cupboards and I will love it.




Exhibit 6: The mail table. I think the junk mail is procreating on my table. There is no other way to explain how much junk is there. How on earth can so much mail come for just two people? Especially two people who do much of their banking online? Some day, when I am rich and famous, I will have a house with a mail center, and a secretary who will sort through my mail and pay my bills. She will be organized and neat, and I will love her.




Exhibit 7: I haven't done laundry this week. This is the pile that has begun forming in the kitchen near the laundry "closet" because the hamper in the bedroom is full. One day, when I am rich and famous, I will have a house with an entire room for laundry. It will have shelves and bars to hang stuff on, and I will love it. But in the meantime, guess who else hasn't done any laundry lately? And guess who wears two t-shirts and a sweatshirt every day? And guess who is giant so very few of his clothes fill up my king-sized washing machine, thereby quadrupling the number of loads that have to be done? And guess who won't help put away the laundry...even his own freaky long jeans? And guess who will walk over the giant laundry pile in the bedroom for weeks without even noticing it?




Exhibit 8: The garage. Three years ago my sister and I organized and completely cleaned out the garage. (Thank you T!! And sorry!) When people came to my house, I actually opened the garage door and showed them the garage. It was a thing of beauty. I considered hosting guests out there I was so proud of it. Now I'm horrified by it. I have helped contribute to this mess, I have to admit, but only a little bit. I have BOXES of books out there that need to get sorted through. But they are all in one location, stacked pretty neatly, impeding no walkways. I also just toss boxes out in the garage that need to get broken down and taken to the cardboard recycling bins. But why bother doing that if I can't even walk to them? Some day, when I am rich and famous, I will have a house that has TWO garages. One for me and my car, and one for J and his crap. It will be a division of space, and I will love it.





Exhibit 9: The leaves that fell in OCTOBER are still on the ground. And the deck. And J got a fabulous leaf eating machine from his parents last year for his birthday. Or was it Christmas? No matter, we've only used it twice. And one of those times was not when the leaves fell this fall. We have an enormous mulberry tree, and a fairly large oak tree in the back yard. The amount of leaves dropped between those two trees is mind boggling. The first year we were in the house it took, and this is no exaggeration, 38 HUGE lawn and leaf bags to take care of it all. Those bags represented HOURS and HOURS of back breaking raking and shoveling (most of which were done by J because I hate yard work and I quit after three hours the first day). The next year we didn't even bother picking them up, and that was a mistake. The grass has never been the same back there. Now we have this machine that looks like a lawn mower that sucks the leaves up and mulches them all in the same action, but we didn't use it. To be fair, when the leaves first dropped, the weather was pretty sucky and it's hard to suck up wet leaves. But then free time got in the way of chores and we still have the leaves rotting on the deck and the grass. P.S. Notice how the deck is peeling? We've been planning (for two years now) to fix that. J refinished the deck three years ago and it looked awesome. Then it started to peel for some reason, and it still looks like crap. One day, when I am rich and famous, I will have a house that has a deck that is beautiful, looks real, but needs no care. I will also have a gardener who will pick the leaves one at a time off the trees right before they fall, so they never land on the deck or the grass. I will love my deck and my gardener.

Exhibit 10: The "collage" I was going to make for my dad for his birthday two years ago. I bought this great old frame, and I was going to create a collage of St. Nicholas (my dad's pur seine fishing boat) for Dad to hang at his house. The pieces are all still in my guest room because I don't have a place to store it while I "think" about what I'm going to do. In all actuality, I should probably get rid of the stuff. My dad got married a year ago, and they are remodeling his house. I have a feeling that unless it turns out pretty spectacularly, the collage wouldn't find a place on the new walls. One day, when I am rich and famous, I will have time to do all of the creative projects I want to start, and everyone will love them. Perhaps that will even be how I am rich and famous??





Exhibit 11: The cabinet that goes over the toilet. It doesn't belong on the floor in the guest room, but it appears to have taken up permanent residence there. I love this cabinet, but unfortunately our toilet is too tall to really use it. The toilet kept running (for about 6 months) before I finally convinced J that we needed to fix it. Putting the cabinet together was a pain in the rear. Taking the cabinet apart was even worse. I think we are both afraid to put it back together again. But we need to do something. I like it because I don't have storage in my bathroom, and I don't want people to be searching through my cabinets for extra toilet paper or soap, etc. I don't like it because J paints the air blue when he has to do anything with it. (To be fair, it really IS a pain. But I don't know that it warrants that much cussing, difficult or not.) One day, when I am rich and famous and have a gardener and a chef and a housekeeper and a secretary, they will take care of this sort of thing, and I will love whoever does it even more than I already did.

Exhibit 12: The rock display in the blue bedroom. It looks pretty nice, huh? Oh, wait, what's that you say? What happened to all of the rocks? Well, that's an easy answer. Back in April, around J's birthday, we went to the Benton County Rock and Gem Show. We go every year. This year, my friend Laurie came and brought her three kids with us. The girls, Courtney and Kennedy, are budding rock hounds, and J gets a big tickle out of that. He gave them his old rock tumbler, and he gave them one of his old field manuals for identifying rocks. The girls were intrigued by the rocks there, and by the purchases J made, so when we went to Laurie's house after the rock and gem show for an impromptu game night / birthday celebration, we stopped at home to get some of his other rocks. We wrapped them all up in newspaper and put them in a shoe box for safe traveling to Laurie's house. We showed the girls, who oohed and aahed, and then wrapped the rocks back up for safe traveling home. And that's where they've stayed for the last nine months, for safe keeping. One day, when I am rich and famous, the housekeeper will take care of this sort of thing for me, so I don't have to nag J and he will love the housekeeper. (In a platonic, non-sexual sort of way, of course. Otherwise I would have to fire the housekeeper and I wouldn't love that.)





Exhibit 13: The stereo J refuses to give up, even though we have had iPods for two years now, and haven't used that stereo in more than two and half years. Not even for the radio. We have a radio / iPod player in the kitchen that we use. Or we listen to the iPods on the stereo speakers in the living room that Dad and Mel gave us. Or we put the iPod on J's alarm clock and turn it up. For whatever reason, though, we can't get rid of the stereo. Probably because it is a "good" stereo. But I'm guessing it's not that good anymore...can you see the finger swipe I made to illustrate how dusty it is? One day, when I am rich and famous, the housekeeper will dust and accidentally break this stereo so we have no choice to get rid of it. Then I will love the housekeeper again, even though she flirts with J, the shameless hussy.






Exhibit 14: I have been up since 6:45 this morning, tackling the laundry and my long-neglected blog. J has not. He finally got up at 10:30 to find out why I was taking pictures of him. I feel a little bad. But not really. I got MAD when I got up this morning to find that he didn't empty the dishwasher AGAIN. I suppose I won't post the picture of him in bed with his mouth wide open. But I want to. Oh, do I want to. One day, when I am rich and famous, the paparazzi will take care of posting the embarrassing pictures, and as long as they are not of me, I will love it.