Saturday, June 20, 2009

Got Cheese?

'Cause I'm bringing a little whine. Just a little taste, not a full on drunken orgy. Watch out, you might get what you're after.

We got home about an hour ago. When we pulled into our driveway, it was like I'd sat down at the shoulder press after a competitive weightlifter without bothering to adjust the weight. I quite literally felt the tears welling up before I was even out of the car.

My house was never in danger of being featured in Better Homes and Gardens (or, as they accurately spoofed on The Simpson's once, Better Homes Than Yours). But two weeks worth of weeds and grass growth didn't serve to make it any more welcoming.

Inside was better, but not by a lot.

I hate my house.

I didn't love it before we left, but it was adequate. It was what it was. It's where I keep my stuff.

Walking into it today was walking into a prison. A prison, of course, of my own making - which is small darn comfort.

As someone drank all the tequila and most of the vodka before we left, I reached for my only other go-to comfort. I drew a warm bath and threw in some scented bubbles. I had just achieved my best "Calgon, take me away" pose and was nowhere close to the Calgon mood when one of the girls walked right in and sat on the edge of the tub. She started right in on the take me, drive me, I need, I want's. I was in the frackin' tub! Is nothing sacred? I couldn't have relaxed anyway, because the bathroom is part of this house and - did I mention? - I HATE this house!

I got dressed and set about trying to cope with the fact that I LIVE in this s**thole when the other one started practicing her drums. I usually don't mind - I'm so used to it, I tune it right out - but I'm SAD! It is going right down my spine, the drumming is.

I look over to ask her to stop and she is grinning ear to ear. She missed her drums so much. She missed her dog and her rat. She was actually homesick for this place. She is as happy to be home as I am unhappy.

I can't ask her to stop being happy because I have.

So I'm home. I'll start weeding. And landscaping. And cleaning. I'll do what I can to make it liveable.

But not right this minute. The weeds will be here tomorrow. The unpacking will be here tomorrow. The laundry will be here tomorrow.

God knows, it will all still be here tomorrow.

Right this minute I'm gonna go ahead and be sad.

11 comments:

Housewife Savant said...

I keep my shit in a hole too honey.

It's YOU we love, not your dwelling.

Cheer up my dear. Eat something gross.

Anita said...

Aww Tammy, I always have let down after a vacation.
I don't live in my dream house, I dont' even live in my next step up house. I live in the house we bought 16 years ago, our first house saying it was the starter house, but life changed, I gave up hte high paying job and with this house we can afford the mtg, the utilities and still afford the other things are kids need. It's not horrible, but it is small, and it's got very little of what I would call "appeal". Thankfully it's not old and I keep it clean.
My three will be the same way when we return from vacation, where can I go, what friends can I see, take me, pay for me, do for me.....etc.
Hang in there, get a better lock for the bathroom door and for goodness sakes replenish the liquor cabinet.
Thinking of you!

Debbie said...

That post vacation let down is a drag. I think most of us have felt it and know where your whine is coming from.

Stesha said...

It's okay. I use to hate my old house too! Sometimes I wanted to pimp slap it and call it filthy names.

But my mother didn't raise me that way.

Hugs and Mocha,
Stesha

Sandy said...

Your vacation sounded lovely. Try to focus on that and that you are home safe and sound.

Pam said...

How about a nice Gouda? Just kidding. Go ahead and be sad for awhile, but then do what you can to make even one corner of your house a place you love. A comfy reading chair perhaps? Anyway, I totally get the "take me, drive, I need, I want" litany of verbal diarreha from the kids. That's enough to drive anyone over the edge. I'm with Anita - get a better lock on the bathroom door and instill a liquor cabinet in there. Hey, that could be your own little corner of the house! Win-win!

Alex the Girl said...

What's gouda for Pam hasta be gouda for you. We once went on vacation and forgot to wash the dishes. That was nice. We evacuated for Hurricane Gustav and then stayed evacuated for Hurricane Ike and I forgot to take the laundry out of the washer. Needless to say, the mold on the towels matched the mold growing on the walls and floor. And while I may not be floatin in the same boat you're in today, hon, I feel your pain. I seriously do. I was never more happy when I found out our house needed a 70 percent overhaul (goodbye stained carpet, crayon colored walls, you name it). It's the one thing that is keeping me sane while living w/my mom.

Keep your chin up, get a lock for that bathroom, and lose it a little and just say "No...not now...maybe tomorrow...take a number...you have your own room, this is mine."

As for cheese, I prefer this nice wisconsin mild cheddar. Yum.

By the way, Savant said a curse word that didn't have a * in it to make it not quite a curse word.

Unknown Mami said...

I'm so glad you got your whine on and that you said frackin'.

It's fine to throw a pity party now and again and yours featured live music.

MiMi said...

It's a strange mixture of comfort and sadness that hits me when I get home. The house seems neglected and stale. But I actually like my house, although I couldn't ever say I love it.
Eat a twinkie. Twinkies always make someone feel better, don't they?
Macey

SQ said...

Hey sweetie!! LOVED your honest and realness, as always!!!! ALways stay that way!

I cry with you my friend and I understand!! It is ok to feel sad....feel it completely and feel it thru!!!

love you much
BIG HUGS for YOU!!
sue

the girl said...

That sucks. The big one.

I'm not sure if I actually know anyone who lives in a house that looks like it's out of Better Homes and Gardens. Maybe we should start an alternative house-pimping mag: Don't Worry, My House Sucks Too, But I've Got Plenty Of Tequila?

I'm with the chickie-babes who are cheering for a more secure lock on the bathroom door. And more liquor. Clearly sensible and pragmatic advice. The weeds can wait. Pay/bribe/force your girls to pull them if you can't stand it... Might get them out of the house...

Don't forget that if it all gets too much, get on a plane to Australia and I'll medicate you with margaritas. Best cure for a shitty house yet.

Love you so much.