Who is Sue and what is Suelandia?

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Primping the interior of the land

Hey people.  When I invite someone over this time of year, I always assume it will be nice out and we'll be able to hang out on my deck, which becomes the most used room of the house in summer.  It's great because it's outside, and I'm not really expected, I don't think anyway, to clean it.  After all, it's outside-- I can hardly be responsible for an ant walking around on it or whatever.

Sis and I have discussed at length, how outside dirt, made presumably of decayed plant material, just doesn't seem as dirty or gross as inside dirt-- which you know is composed of disgusting things like dead skin cells, and micro-organisms that eat dead skin cells.  Blech.

But alas.  I've invited a friend over tomorrow for lunch and doing some art (jewelry) (which should be really fun), and now it's supposed to rain, and I have to deal with the fact that we are going to be stuck inside.  Unless I clean up a bit this friend, who like all my actual friends already KNOWS I'm no Suzy-homemaker, will sit there and politely try to not show how much she is ooging-out.  I'd rather she be comfortable and heebie-free, so...  Time to get domestic.

Here's how that goes in Suelandia: 

At the grocery store, I feel together, or, more accurately, like someone impersonating someone who has it all together by shopping for healthy foods. My fridge gloats smugly, full of raw fruits and vegetables.  It reminds me of buying organizational containers, trying to convince yourself that this will somehow change you into a neat, tidy person, knowing full well it won't.  At least now I can chase the inevitable, illicit cookie with a handful of blueberries or radishes.

While putting away dishes, I wonder at the persistence of round dishes and containers that insist on occupying the obviously squarish spaces of shelves, drawers, and fridges.  Vow to begin replacing impractical round dishes and containers with square ones, that stack easily, with easily stored lids etc.  Then decide I like some of the roundies too much to part with and tire of the whole idea.

Feel guilty about the state of the tropical plants I've been trying to passive aggressively kill for two years.  I don't like being responsible for the life of these ugly, incongruous plants that don't belong in this latitude.  Just go into the light already.  Decide to withhold water, but feel too mean, and give in.  (The grass I always water, because it belongs here-- part of the family, and is right by the sink after all.)

Stubbornly refuse to remove the bloom of produce stickers that has now become a collection-- further proof of my intake of healthy food, as well as an impromptu little art installation.  I'm still a little out of sorts Dan had the gall to vacuum up the petrified bumble bee from the side of the sliding glass door.  I'd left it there for nearly two years, like my own little museum of natural science.  I was hoping one of the kids would notice it someday, like an unexpected diorama.  Sometimes *clean* is boring.

I think my produce stickers look a bit like a chrysanthemum.

Contemplate getting rid of bunches of stuff-- things I haven't used once since moving in.  That kind of cleaning, unburdening myself of crap to dust, I can get behind, but I don't have the time to get into that today.  Also-- I'm sick to death of looking at my library of writing books at the moment and want to move them up to the apartment (giant guest room).

I'm taking a break from writing, and getting back into reading and listening to adult literary fiction.  I have to say, I'm loving John Updike--  his erudite observations of life and frank, even crude sexual musings burbling along his storyline with the certainty of water seeking it's level.  The writing is so strident and unapologetic.  I'm digging it.  I'm listening to "Rabbit Is Rich" while I clean & prepare. 

While picking up kitchen, hang my dingy, singed oven mitts back on their hook.  I just refuse to buy new ones unless I really love them for some reason-- a color I can't resist or something.  Heck, they still do the job-- besides, they kind of smack of danger don't they?  God knows what could happen in this kitchen-- adventure looms!

I still have lots of stuff to pick up-- sketch pads, and junk mail and spare change, stray remote controls and the giant box the driftwood from Texas arrived in three weeks ago that has somehow become just another surface to pile crap on.

I know when my pal shows up tomorrow everything won't be perfect, but it'll be good enough, better than it is now anyway, and I'll have some good food prepared, and best of all she'll take it however it is because we are friends.

(BTW-- New pics etc on "Art Stuff" page/tab)


Linda Thiltgen said...

You know...I love you the way you are. Can't wait to spend the day.

Linda G. said...

Your clean-up method is exactly like mine--invite somebody over. (When the upstairs is crying out for attention, I have to invite overnight guests.)

Love how you find art in everyday things. With your view of the world around you, the inside of you must be a wondrous place to live. :)

pseudosu said...

Linda T-
I love the way you are okay with me and all my quirks. :) It WILL be fun, as I was telling Dan over and over last night in a failed attempt to make him jealous.

Linda G-
I've always felt fortunate to be easily entertained. And unless you were about to have company during "the towel" shoot, your house is always perfect! (I would have srpuced for that though too...)

Kyia said...

At least you weren't putting away Christmas Decorations!

Anonymous said...

"Sis and I have discussed at length, how outside dirt, made presumably of decayed plant material, just doesn't seem as dirty or gross as inside dirt-- which you know is composed of disgusting things like dead skin cells, and micro-organisms that eat dead skin cells"

I have never thought of this. I'm never breathing inside again. :)

I don't have much to add here. Great post, very funny!

Maery Rose said...

Since my house sold, I'm thinking I don't have to clean anymore, just pack and try not to bring any dirt, Java hair (except what's still attached to her) or dead skin cells with me.

pseudosu said...

Our record for that was St. Pat's day one year.

Thanks. Yes, you DON'T want to stay in a cheap motel with us. You'll be scarred for life-- whoa, that didn't come out right-- hopefully you know what I mean. ;D

Yes, once you move in there is also this weird period where you need to ensure that all the dirt (skin cells etc) are YOURS, and not the previous owners. I always have to clean like a mad woman at first. It's kind of like marking my territory then. It might be a mess, but it's MY mess!