2002 Story Set
| July 14, 2002 STAR, which should be forever boycotted, wrote that Fabio had "dirty underwear all over his house." I doubt all over. It's a pretty big house. (5,000 or 7,000 sq. feet, depending on the magazine). His mother visits (and cleans - messing up his stereo connections on occasion, tossing out old clothes). And he has a housekeeper. Now let me tell you about MY house. So STAR doesn't have to. I do not have a housekeeper. First off, the subject of underwear needs to be addressed. I have two boys. I have tried (oh how I have tried) to teach them to use a hamper. I bought colorful ones, vented ones, soft ones and hard ones. I put them in different spaces. I nagged. I yelled I complained. I whined. Nothing moved them. Not in 26 years! I even tried, "I won't wash it if it's not in the hamper! I mean it this time!" Ever seen naked boys hold up towels, running around dripping wet on the rug like headless chickens and yelling for clothes at 6AM? Hard to cope with since I was usually hunting for my missing bra about that time. My friend swears her livingroom carpet eats hers. I have one missing at the moment that has probably met the same fate. So I had to give up and do the washing, picking up whatever was obvious. I found underwear wherever they took it off. The family room. The living room. The hallway. The bathroom. Under the bed. I have even found it shoved under the mattress! No reason, just handy. Socks were worse than shorts. They rolled them down their legs into sausages (they wore those knee-high tube socks) and flicked them off the end of their feet. I found a missing sock on the top of the refrigerator once. In the ivy pot. It had been missing for months. It wasn't just underwear. It was pants, shirts, and shoes. Everyday was a witch-hunt for shoes. If I didn't pick clothes up off the floor of the bathroom, they simply stepped over them. I won't discuss my older child's home. He doesn't let me visit. And he is a bachelor. And we know unmarried men are simply bears with furniture. My younger son is 20 and he still does this. Drops his shorts wherever. And still stands and demands clothes while dripping water and draped in a towel. (If I don't fetch them immediately for him, I am accused of not loving him anymore. The stinker had mastered the pouting lower lip. I'll be glad when his chemo is over.) And add to the clothes on the floor, the big bath towels, dropped on his way to getting dressed. Usually in the bedroom, bathroom and hallway. And he is disabled! When he still was in the wheelchair, he ran over them. Now he could trip on them! I find clothes in the family room (removed while watching TV). In the living room - cum weight room - removed while exercising. I find piles in the bathroom. I have assigned a spot on the floor of the third bedroom - cum closet. He can't even toss them that far. So I have, since this house is too cramped to put a hamper in, joined him. I toss my clothes on the floor too! In piles. One in my bedroom and one by the tiny bathroom's door. The difference is that I pick up and actually wash my own stuff. His too. Regularly. Five loads a week! Once a week, I even hang my clothes back up! (As opposed to leaving the clean stuff in piles.) Once in awhile, I will clean out a closet. I even have been known to vacuum. Not the "touch up" kind of run over the rug stuff, the "tear the room up" type of cleaning. I just spent eight hours cleaning the third bedroom this way so that I would have clothes to go back to work in, and could run barefoot into the room to get them. I have too many clothes! Time to remove all MEDIUM and SMALL things out of the closet and into storage bins. Time to put all sweaters away too. Put that on my list! Now, is underwear from a woman who has had two children and whose doctor said, 20 years ago, "You'll need another operation in the future," pristine once worn? Not likely! Not always! It's why we have Clorox! And panty liners! Because I haven't had time for that surgery. Yet. (Not far over the horizon however!) Ditto the case with the cancer patient. The right (or wrong) medication can whack up his system! If someone came into my house on the wrong day and wandered into my private quarters, oh my! What a story they could write! Piles of used underwear! And we don't ride a motorcycle in the dirt! Of course, my older son does run his truck in the desert playa - and I have the $3000 repair bill to prove it. That stuff gets everywhere. Three truck washes didn't save his radiator. Just think of his underwear! Of course, I refrain from leaving my underwear in the living room or family room. Well, most of the time. There is that occasional lost bra------- |
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