Dirty Socks on the Kitchen Counter

Oh my god.

I was gone for two days. One night.

The house looks like a bomb went off.

I asked Jeanine if they simply took things and threw them in the air.

Very perceptive, she said.

Not funny, I said. Look at this place.

She shrugged and asked me to make lunches for the kids.

I asked Ben what was up with the mess.

He smiled.

Gets a little loose around here with Mom in charge, huh? I asked.

Yup.

Did the newspaper have to end up under the kitchen table? Shredded?

Whatever, he shrugged. He’s working hard on his teenager angst and surliness. But then, he’s been working on it since he was about three.

I find it hard to work when there is a mess in the house. No one else will clean it up- at least not unsupervised. That includes Jeanine. Who had not one, not two, not even three, but four lap top computers surrounding her this morning while having coffee.

Pretty cool, huh? She said, eyes glazed with techno- ecstasy.

I barricaded myself in my office. My office is clean. Neat. Tidy. One computer. That’s all I need. One.

But it’s out there. The mess.

Not the four computers. Some of them went with her to work. But the shoes, coats, hats, books, crayons, dirty dishes, shredded newspaper, sticky countertops and… yes, a single, dirty sock on the kitchen countertop, are all out there.

Wish me luck.