Dressers, Star Trek Posters, and Knick Knacks

I don't know if anything challenges a relationship more than moving. Five months in a different country didn't bring out the worst in me and my boyfriend like moving does. I think that's why so many people preach about getting married first, its not the act of living together, its the act of moving. They probably think if there's a ring on it you won't kill each other. Star Trek posters, massive freecycle dressers that he refuses to get rid of "can I take my beer poster" "no" have all become the bane of my existence.

My family is full of hoarders which makes me terrified of stuff. I like to throw things away, I like as little stuff as possible in my homes that are not my parent's. True, when I am living in my childhood bedroom it slowly fills up with clothes and chachkas as I revert back to some of my younger habits (I think this is common parent's house behavior) but when it comes to MY space, I need it to be clutter free.

This has lead to all sorts of tiffs and trials. "That dresser is ugly" "it's perfectly good" "its huge" "I like it" "I don't" "I don't tell you to throw your stuff away" "I don't have 'stuff'"

"Are we really taking the star trek poster?" "it's framed" "it's a star trek poster" "I like star trek" "it can go in the kitchen." (I've decided the kitchen is where all the rejected artwork can live) "it's a movie poster, it goes with the movies, its going in the living room" "i hate everything."

We have two more days before the move is complete. If we don't kill each other we're probably meant to be...

I really hate the dresser.

You Have a Zit

My mother has always been very honest. She tells me good things, at least I'm pretty sure but naturally I remember the negative more because of my young adult female psychee. Regardless, sometimes I wish she would lie.

I have a sister, she is older than me, 10 years older. The other day at dinner we were chatting about how pretty she is. My mom then commented "she has crows feet, she's getting old." I said, big deal, I have them too"

..."Yeah, you do. And a zit on your chin."

Hurrah!

I then spent the next 2 days picking at said zit and now it is slowly taking over my face. Oops.

My best friend just texted me. She is going to Boston today with her mom. Apparently upon looking at things to do her mother found something she thought my friend would be interested in.

"I think you're going to like this place! Its a tour of someone's house! She was a suffragette, she never got married and never had children and she was a landscape designer!"

Apparently my friend is doomed to be an empty wombed environmental terrorist.

Her mother gave her a complex.

This is Not a Third World Country

This morning I was taking a shower. To me, a shower is a sacred time. You are alone, you have privacy even in a family of six. I can sing both parts of "A'int No Mountain High Enough" and no one will give me shit for it. Needless to say, I can't quite understand why my family thinks that moving the laundry to the dryer can't wait another 5 minutes while I finish sudsing. So this morning, when I heard the familiar sound of the bathroom door opening right in the middle of the chorus I was already tense. Follow that up with:

"Emmmm"
"Yes."
"You're going to need to cut the shower short, the plumbing is backed up..."

well, that's just cruel.

Apparently the plumbing had backed up and my mother in her post-surgical condition couldn't do much about it, so newly squeaky clean it was my job to carry all the soaked towels and bathmats up to the wash.

In the duration I had thrown on a simple dress, rushing to help my ailing mother.

"Emmmm" she says while on the phone...
"Yes."
"Can you put on something less...well, revealing? You look like you called the plumber cause you're lonely"...

Fast forward a bit and my brother comes home. My family is one of those families (like every family) where each member has their mental illness. If you think this doesn't apply to your family it does, you just haven't realized it yet.

Anyhoo, he came home, rushed to the toilet, and when he saw the unflushed poo he nearly died. His condition happens to be OCD.

"Can someone tell me why there is fucking SHIT in the toilet?? This isn't a fucking third world country!!"

Well honestly I'm not too sure at this moment.

An Aristocratic Nose

My mother just called me into her room. She just had major surgery and as the last child to leave the nest I'm stuck in the dining room trying to write a paper on ASEM (something I still couldn't tell you anything about) waiting for the undeniable "Emmmm" which will come from the next room when she needs something.

I need to clear something up. I love my mother, she is in fact, one of my best friends. But she is also the worst in the world when it comes to compliments.

"Emmm"
"Yeah Mom?"
"Come here, I just, I have to read this to you"

My mother has just started reading "Eat, Pray, Love" a book that is taking suburban housewives by storm as well as post-surgical bored mothers. Apparently the authors description of herself as a "flamingo" reminded her of me.

Years ago, I was laying in bed next to my mother, talking about boys, cat allergies, friends at school, the usual. When she paused and looked at me. Expecting a comment about how "grown up I had become" I waited for the expected motherly compliment that though equatable to "my mom thinks I'm cool!" still makes me happy.

"You have a very aristocratic nose"

I'm fairly certain no one goes into a plastic surgeons office asking for an aristocratic nose.

Thanks Dad for that...