I’m a terrible housekeeper, but I figure most people would rather have a friend who is a fabulous cook than someone who is an excellent duster or vacuumer or scrub-a-dubber, so it doesn’t bother me much. Here are five things you’ll find randomly scattered all over the dollhouse.
Books: I counted, and there were fourteen books roaming loose around my bedroom alone. I don’t have the money to have my books neutered, so I think they entertain themselves by breeding when I’m at school. The overpopulation is by far the most significant in my room and the living room, but there are small pockets of books popping up all over the dollhouse. There are worse things to have scattered all over the place, like chewed gum or dirty socks or empty liquor bottles, so I’m not concerned about the books.
Hairpins: Remember Witch Hazel (I just realized that’s a lovely little pun)?
Every time the old gal gets excited, she jumps in the air, clicks the heels of those granny boots together, and knocks half a dozen pins loose from her hair. I imagine the dollhouse is rather like Witch Hazel’s place, with the evidence of my moments of glee drifting around. I have a ton of hair; I use a ton of pins; they sometimes fall out. Sometimes life’s like that. At least replacing the ones I lose is cheap.
Animal Hair: I have a white cat with red ghost stripes. I have a blue speckled dog with a white tummy. Try as I might, I have not yet found an outfit that doesn’t show the hair of one beast or the other. My mammals’ cast-off hair drifts around like tumbleweeds because I don’t have any carpet, and there are times I almost hear that odd little whistling tune from the old western movies watching the hair balls roll lazily across the hard wood floors.
Lip Goop: Really, I’m a lip product addict. I have glitzes and glosses and balms. I have stuff in squeeze tubes and stuff in the vials with the wand and sponge applicators. I have some old-school tubes with the screw-up bottoms: rest assured Chap-Stick is not allowed in this house (because it’s candle wax that tastes like cough syrup) but that packaging is a staple of lip gooper everywhere. Part of it comes from having survived 28 bitter Alberta winters so far. I know that if I don’t schmear something on my lips regularly, I’ll have a cracked and bleeding bottom lip by New Year’s Eve: of course, sometimes, I just want to have a pretty kisser. That’s were the glittery stuff comes in.
Flatware: One of my many bad habits is snacking in most rooms of the house. At the moment, there is a paring knife on my nightstand because I was eating a peach in bed, cutting crescent after crescent off the pit and reading an excellent book (see item one). I finally retrieved the spoon off the side of the bathtub that had been there a week or so. I remembered to throw out the little yogurt cup, but forgot about the spoon through three or four showers. Don’t panic about the whole “only three or four showers” business: I often shower in the mornings after my swims. There’s a fork and a spoon on the couch, forgotten after who knows what I’ve nibbled in the living room. For some reason, I remember to take the bowl or plate back to the kitchen, maybe because they aren’t generally licked clean like the cutlery, but the flatware gets forgotten. Last week, I even found a spoon downstairs in the spare room where Sherman walks on the treadmill. Ooops.
I’m a scattered woman with a scattered house. It’s okay though. I have more random fish to fry.
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