Ramble on Baby

Hugh Grant and Jemima Khan are officially over. I heard this morning. Is it wrong that my first thought was, “oh good, now I have a shot again?”

Delusional much?

I spent the night in NJ and slept maybe 2 or 3 hours. I woke up well before my 6 am alarm. Then stayed in bed, or at least under the blanket on the pull out couch until 7.

The house still smells like my grandmother. Her stuff is all there and for all intents and purposes (or intensive purposes) it is still her house. This makes me feel all sorts of better.

My mother is not, as you may know, a good housekeeper. Our family home is in a constant state of disarray. When I was young, the blame fell on having 4 young children and a husband who wouldn’t notice if the house was on fire. Now that the children are mostly grown it’s clear that although my father still wouldn’t notice if the house was on fire my mother is a terrible housekeeper. She doesn’t like to keep things neat and tidy and so the house isn’t neat and tidy. You can’t be assured of having clean sheets on your bed or clean glasses in the cupboard, but at nearly 27 I’ve come to accept it. During the summers I keep a clean set of sheets in my closet. Each Friday I strip the bed and replace it with my clean sheets. Each Sunday I strip the bed, wash my sheets, and put whatever was on the bed Friday evening back on it. I bring my own towels and face clothes and toothbrush (can’t leave it there from week to week, never know where it will be when you return). I’ve learned.

My grandmother’s house is pristine. It smells of White Linen, mothballs, and witch hazel (a truly delightful combination, I assure you). The sheets are always clean. The bed is turned down for you when you arrive. Drinks are served promptly at 5. Along with celery, cheddar cheese, Carrs table water crackers, and radishes. There is always vanilla haagen dazs for desert. If you’re there for dinner during the week it will invariable be chicken soup with rice. And it will be delicious. Bobby pins are kept in an old medicine bottle and the witch hazel (thank god for witch hazel) is on the third shelf in the linen closet.

I love my mother and honestly don’t fault her the messy house. I will, however, miss having a place where everything had it’s place.