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talktoolooseIt's amazing how families diverge over the years and create distinct cultures.
This fascinating sociological observation will now be followed by fact: I'm going crazy in my sister's house and I've only been here 11 hours. Snake, Br'er Rabbit and I live fairly ordered lives in a systematic house. My sister, on the other hand, perpetually surfs a sea of organizational and physical, elemental and emotional chaos in a house where everything is broken or jury-rigged. Endless piles of unsorted papers, books, garage-sale goodies and the archives of three families spill from every shelf. And her life, the life of her husband and of their three children seems forever on the verge of hysteria and collapse with people screaming at the last minute that they're about to be late and are unable to find that needle in the haystack that they need to get them through the next crisis.
By the time Passover arrives on Wednesday night, there will be ten people staying in this house. Snake and I have been put in the rec room downstairs which would be fine... IF IT HAD A FUCKING DOOR! Because you hear everything in there. And the chaos doesn't stop until 12:30 and my brother-in-law is up at 6:30 clattering dishes in the kitchen.
I admit it, I'm a pretty grumpy person without my eight hours. But if you say this you hear, "I haven't slept eight hours in the last 15 years! Do you know how hard my life is? I have 15 guests coming for dinner this week and I have to teach and the children have this and that presentation at school" so, what's the point?
Okay, sorry, enough. We had a gorgeous drive through the Catskills yesterday, the sun is shining on Long Island and my dad and I are heading into Manhattan which can't be a bad thing. And my new shoes are fabulous (or garish, as my father calls them, so I must be doing something right).
I will duck into a Duane Reade drug store and by earplugs for tonight.
This fascinating sociological observation will now be followed by fact: I'm going crazy in my sister's house and I've only been here 11 hours. Snake, Br'er Rabbit and I live fairly ordered lives in a systematic house. My sister, on the other hand, perpetually surfs a sea of organizational and physical, elemental and emotional chaos in a house where everything is broken or jury-rigged. Endless piles of unsorted papers, books, garage-sale goodies and the archives of three families spill from every shelf. And her life, the life of her husband and of their three children seems forever on the verge of hysteria and collapse with people screaming at the last minute that they're about to be late and are unable to find that needle in the haystack that they need to get them through the next crisis.
By the time Passover arrives on Wednesday night, there will be ten people staying in this house. Snake and I have been put in the rec room downstairs which would be fine... IF IT HAD A FUCKING DOOR! Because you hear everything in there. And the chaos doesn't stop until 12:30 and my brother-in-law is up at 6:30 clattering dishes in the kitchen.
I admit it, I'm a pretty grumpy person without my eight hours. But if you say this you hear, "I haven't slept eight hours in the last 15 years! Do you know how hard my life is? I have 15 guests coming for dinner this week and I have to teach and the children have this and that presentation at school" so, what's the point?
Okay, sorry, enough. We had a gorgeous drive through the Catskills yesterday, the sun is shining on Long Island and my dad and I are heading into Manhattan which can't be a bad thing. And my new shoes are fabulous (or garish, as my father calls them, so I must be doing something right).
I will duck into a Duane Reade drug store and by earplugs for tonight.
