i want a wife
one of those bright, crisp constipated types from a slick 1950’s magazine ad. starched apron and a string of pearls, pushing a bissell broom along in high-heeled pumps with her ankle turned just so. i want to come home from a hard day’s work, close the door behind me, loosen my tie and holler ‘honey, i’m home!’ as i take in the savory smells of a home cooked meal and spy the sweat-beaded pitcher filled with martinis. that rumpled bed i left just that morning freshly made with sharp-cornered sheets, the ring of scunge gone from the shower stall, the toilet springtime fresh, my jimmies and undies and towels and socks washed, folded and placed neatly in their respective drawers.
i do come home to a woman each day. she is not my lover nor sadly even my friend; she is my sister and she is my roommate and she is the albatross that hangs from my shoulders. i’m fully aware of how monstrous and evil i sound. this is family, my own flesh and blood! frankly that doesn’t mean two blazing rat turds to me. i am not cruel; i want her to be happy and i do wish her well, i simply realize that i have no pull in any of that actual coming to fruition. to say she has issues would be a grand understatement, she has not worked in two years and has lost touch with the reality of social function and the day to day rhythm of work and responsibility. what makes this situation more tragic still is the fact that she is beautiful and talented but lacks the drive or stamina to create and present herself to the world.
while i’m no dynamo in the work force or butterfly on the scene i manage to find delight in my precious circle of friends and enough scratch in my pocket to keep the wolves at bay. i am able to accomplish the little that i do because i finally found a doctor aggressive enough with medication so that we discovered a blend that alleviates enough of the crippling depression i’m prone to to allow a glimmer of joy here and there. i’ve encouraged my sister, as much as i can, to stay on her meds but alas i am not my sister’s keeper. but it feels that way so much of the time. i hesitate to confront her or to ask her to perform the simplest of tasks because it would be met with confusion and inability.
i’ve often expressed my belief that monsters are made not born and at the risk of getting all john bradshaw i have my parents to thank in large part for the disabling of my big sister. their love and attention was destructive and toxic. somehow they convinced this fragile creature that her beauty would be the foundation of survival and in so doing they cut her off at the knees. suitors of any kind were viewed as inferior, friends were seen as common so the day came when no one dared approach that ivory tower. this world owes us nothing but behind a locked door she sits waiting for opportunity to arrive…all I can say is it better be packing a sledge hammer when it does.
A roommate situation is about to improve for you, as the chaos you recently have been tolerating runs its course and then exhausts itself, and all without your intervention. Let this be a lesson about allowing life to take its own path.
prevention is kinder than destruction. each year over six million healthy dogs, cats, puppies and kittens are killed as surplus. remember: neuter, spay and don't let them stray!