Thursday, February 7, 2013



I am not a good housekeeper.
For a start, I don't mind clutter.
I don't know what maintenance is and I love to sweep everything under the rug.
Procrastination is maybe the one thing I never put off.
I am not good at fixing things. But I am great at ignoring things that are broken.

And this is just the way I handle my marriage.
My house actually, doesn't look that bad.

I am very lazy in my relationship, and in a relationship, apparently, you can't slouch.
Is the amount of trust refilled?
Is the support in ship shape?
Is there anything you forgot to air ?
Are resentments conveniently hidden under the stove?
To maintain a certain efficiency in your marriage you have to constantly clear the dust and the misunderstandings. If not daily, at least weekly. I never want to do it. Luckily my husband forces me to confrontation.
I begrudgingly  have to admit that I always feel better after it.
The same way I feel better after I am done cleaning the refrigerator.


My friend IsaBella just had her fourth baby. Two days after the happy event, I dropped by her house, UNANNOUNCED, in the middle of the afternoon.
She had ABSOLUTELY NO idea I was going to show up. Here's what I saw when she opened the door:
I saw a woman in a cocktail dress, with exquisite make up and coiffed hair;
I saw an adorable newborn baby boy, garbed like Little Lord Fauntleroy;
The house, you 'll be happy to know, looked like the site of a nuclear explosion after detonation.
My friend IsaBella (you could have guessed) is French.
She has her priorities straight.

Every time I went to visit an American friend, after she gave birth, I always found the girl wearing nothing but sweats, nursing pads, pigtails and spit up milk.
The house, though, each and every time, was immaculate.

Every time I had a baby, my house looked like what's left of a train crash; and I looked (and felt) like I had been run over by a train myself.

Laslo, in the box, on the day he was born.

This is a picture of my friend's  4 kids. The picture was taken in the beautiful Alamo Square, with the Painted Ladies (Victorian Homes) and the city, in the background.
Now you see what I mean?

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