Saturday, February 4, 2012

Reflection on a Sunday

Defining Demographics of the Matron's Household

Control Freaks Living in the Moment

Matron John

He Who Cannot Be Named
(HWCBN) Merrick (aka Meatloaf Head)

Scarlett (Diva)

Above would be the blueprint of the Matronly life.

Yours truly doesn't wake in the morning and wonder what the day will offer: what bounty, what trial, what unexpected surprise? No.

She wakes to the tune of the Master List. The goals! The tasks! The small pleasures! Everything tucked up tight into a timeline and made Reality just because she wrote it down and said it should be so.

Have a conversation with the Matron? A need, desire, query? Why that's easy because the Matron KNOWS WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO SAY. And if you don't say it as she anticipates, she'll pretend you did anyway so it just doesn't matter.

So the Matron has the world by its tail, tucked in and ordered. Welcome to it.

The only problem is . . . so do Scarlett and HWCBN.

Let's just say that when you have three taut, immovable parallel universes spinning in a single family home there is bound to be collisions.

Here goes the Matron running her ship. Here comes Scarlett steering hers. HWCBN navigates down the middle. Take any topic! It's fun! Really -- it's very, very exciting when any everything in the universe is subject to consternation and contention.

What's for dinner?
Who's running for city council?
Why can't the Green Party ever win.
Time for laundry.
Satan's Familiar needs a hefty cloven hoof clipping
Time to vacuum
Where's the pizza cutter?

"Mom, why is your shirt untucked?"

"I like my fork slightly to the right of my plate and not the left."

"This cup has a little smudge on it."

"Where's my yellow shirt? That's the only one I'm wearing on Mondays."

"Can we move the shade up a quarter inch?"

"There's a thin film of grease on this piece of chicken. Who made it?"

"Is this a new kind of water? From the faucet? It tastes funny."

Matron to John: "This is making me crazy! Why can't they be more like me?"

John: "You said that on purpose, right?"

Matron: "What do you mean? Of course I said it on 'purpose.' Of my own volition."

John: "I mean, you crafted the sentence for ridicule, right?"

Matron: "Hmmm."

John: "Because they are exactly like you."

So three in the household barrel through each day Agenda and Idea writ large, battling for command of the universe. All of the universes, that is.

While the other two?

Living life from their psychological hammocks. Well, well outside of Matronly Control.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

(Un) Grateful

Yours truly woke up: off.







And one of her braids had come out.










The Matron? NOT HAPPY.


