Somewhere near the end of the year, with the doom of Thanksgiving and Christmas looming, I got a wild streak to basically throw everything out and scrub it all down with bleach.
Sometimes, I wish I could do this with my brain.
The Yankee is steadily showing herself to be more of a Heather. The Hippy, who has stuck up for her for the longest time suddenly said one afternoon after work “Put some distance from her, for your own sake.” She didn’t elaborate and at the time, I didn’t feel I needed to ask. I kind of got the gist.
God, I’m too old for this shit.
The Yankee made a shit first impression from the get go. You don’t move to the South, shit on southern education (which you’ve never personally experienced) for which most of your co-workers are by-products of.
You don’t go off about how your Master’s degree should exempt you from doing shitty work, like my job. Especially not if you keep reminding me what you do when I catch your bullshit mistakes in the process of doing my own job. If you don’t want me to catch your mistakes, stop making them.
I also have to appreciate the irony of me, the southerner, having to explain to said Yankee that making remarks like “only some blacks actually fall under the N word” is indeed a racist statement. For someone whose boyfriend likes to reiterate they won “the war,” his girlfriend doesn’t seem to understand what that means.
Perhaps its because I cannot pour bleach on her to flush her away that I felt the need to purge my world. We’ve made several trips to Goodwill. Spawn still has some stuffed animals to cover. What idiot bought this kid this many toys?
I finally dismantled the bed and took it to my co-worker who lost so much when we had the storms and flooding.
It felt good. I even tossed the curtains that had been hanging since Spawn was a baby and bought new ones I really couldn’t afford but my sense of well being couldn’t afford me not to. I’m pretty sure I won’t be taking them with me if I move, but I feel better and more refreshed in my home now. Spawn was unusually supportive and worked with me as I went. Maybe I wasn’t the only one needing to purge.
Of course, when the bulk of it was done and there was almost an echo in the house, my instinct is seeking out anything else to eliminate, measuring out what I can break down to nothing as keep worthy, while Spawn’s response was to point how little clothing they had left that actually fit.