Way out there, somewhere, is the order I crave. Order in my head, in the house, in my schedule, in dailiness, in the fabric of my life. Order in the Kim!
Truly, I am getting to the point again where enough is enough, and I long to fill big black garbage bags full of all our belongings, whip up the tops so no-one can see what they're losing, and pile the load in the old Texas pick-up. Bound for never-never-land. Then I will usher in a new order.
In this new pristine place there will be no furniture that is not in good condition and is not sat in regularly. There will be no discarded photos pressed with the fingerprints of children. I will have three candles which burn always. One vase full of flowers that are not stinking or crisping at the edges. Exactly the right number of plates and silverware. No mysterious file names on the computer. No bits and pieces (mismatched socks, notes, book pages, old toothbrushes, play food) under the girls' beds. Five plants which do not drop sap and are watered like clockwork by the invisible servant. No furry tupperware in the fridge.
No fifty or more mismatched socks. I am NOT joking, by the way. No lonely shoes without mates, no more dresses, purses, or curtains put together with safety pins, no more freezer half-full of ice-flow, no more unmarked items in the freezer, no more pants without buttons and without hope of ever receiving buttons.
My head will be well-filed. I will know how to drive back from the airport every time. I will not continually make wrong turns on the way to the Mennonites in Morgantown, West Virginia. I will be able to access faces and match them with names. I will not ask embarassing things, like if someone is pregnant when they "are just fat" (according to the person I asked), and I will not verbally mistake somebody's husband for somebody's son (yes, this also happened). I will know always when to shut up. I will remember events in my life, like when the children walked, when I went on trips and with whom, how old I am, when the children were born, and what was said on a specific subject. I will not ever spell pom-pilot, "palm-pilot," or get illnesses mixed up when asking for prayer (especially when the former is an STD and the latter is a gastrointestinal matter).
Ah, yes, order. I will have my ducks in a row. My Is dotted and my Ts crossed. I will always send you cards on your significant days. I will rename myself to celebrate this new stage of Kim. I will go by the name Greta, which sounds like the name of a well-ordered, in-control person.
I will be miserable, but I will always know where to find the tape and the dental floss. And isn't that a fine switch?
