Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Irritated and Immobile

Looking like Walter's Mall (but less organized or interesting), and apparently powered by the high-pitched whir and whine of a thousand provoke-ed pre-schoolers, Joyce's Happy Home Family Daycare provided a flimsey facade for the irritated and immobile haus frau within. Her eyes wandered from Ken and Barbie partially clad and awkwardly twisted beneath the $25.00 davenport (plus shipping) to the naked-shorn pup munching contraband baby num nums beneath the crusty highchair. Partially painted and filthy furniture reeked of nutella sandwhiches and a thousand runny noses. Green painting tape held together the remote control too often thrown by an innocent looking lad of just 14 wee months. (What a future in that arm!) A potted plant waited wiltingly in the kitchen sink, competing for space with bowls of Dora the Explora soup, petrified oatmeal, and too many coffee cups for just one operater of the grounds. The bedrooms spilled into one another, laundry upon laundry multiplying itself like so many rabbits. Lego beings, beanie babies, and playmobil pirates all seemed to have excelled in the procreation portion of their adolescent educations.

And so she sat in their midst. Dusty herself. Old pinkie tried to keep her company, perched apologetically on the kitchen counter, competing with training panties, cheap teething biscuits, a misplaced threaded needle, girl-gets-hit-by-car paperwork to be dealt with, and a Mastercard bill so cluttered with numbers, it was most certainly wrongly addressed.

And as though perfectly in tune with their surroundings, the wee ones began early on to bicker, provoke, irritate, and prod one another mercilessly.

"What must I do to be sane?!" she lamented to absolutely nobody.

Then it came to her. There must be some sort of horrible mistake at the Bernina Hospital. They had misplaced her number, and were waiting for her to make an inquiry. With the return of Old Faithful, everything would be set to rights. Balance would return. The day's hours would multiply themselves, her creative juices would bring joy and exhuberence back to her life, and all that nasty cleaning up, organizing, wiping, washing, vacuuming, folding, sorting and other sundry horrers would take care of themselves in her wild enthusiasm for space to spread her fabulous fabrics, scissors, and ideas.

Bolstered by her revelation, she approached her old nemesis- the telephone.

Hello? Yes? the bernina?

Not three weeks!!

And with her only hopes dashed,
Everything old became old (and dusty) again.


Anonymous said...

Oh the pain. I've just spent about 6 hours ripping out a mistake I sewed with my functioning machine. Am feeling very unmotivated now. What's worse? Living without a beloved machine, or making a time wasting mistake mistake with a working one? Probably the no;n working one. My sympathies to you. I'm banishing myself back downstairs (Soon, I hope). If you can't sew, why don't you just come over here?

Anonymous said...

I repeat................I have a sewing machine collecting dust and you are welcome to shovel the dust away and use it till old faithful returns................as long as you don't mind a singer.

joyce said...

I know... I'm sorry for being such a whiney, ungrateful old thing. A woman has a certain relationship with a machine which has been really reliable. Sort of like a husband who is also a good lover...

I don't like learning new stuff. I prefer to whine and wish i had my bernina. (and Rod is on his way over with Cheri's pfaff.. I am a sewing adulterous. A dangerously desparate hungry woman.)

Anonymous said...

The husband who is also a good lover is halarious. Hey solution. I have a chiken shed to work on and a bottle of gin to get emptied. I think I even have some gas money for you . Hows about a hot tub party at my house this weekend. Doug is busy on Saturday but I'm ready for a party. What do you say?

Anonymous said...

Rose can I come to your party???

Anonymous said...

Glad to hear there's a sewing machine on its way to your house...because not having one in the house(that works) for a sewer like you is akin to losing a body part...almost. A Phaff is a good thing...I have one of those plus a Singer (in the hospital)and a Kenmore. Roselle

joyce said...

nance, are you saying that you are going to be in the 'vain this weekend? Sheesh. I'll have to give the in-laws the bump if you keep up this chatter.

Roselle- the pfaff is so good. I made Kathy a bag about the size of yours, and I love the way it turned out. It's ridiculous, but I feel more balanced now that there is a reliable machine back in the house.

Anonymous said...

unfortunately not...but it sure would be fun!

Anonymous said...

That's right...pretty soon I"LL have a Joyce bag too, I'll be strutting around town, going to the mail and bank and Bigway and such with MY new bag. Yes, it's beautiful AND it looks good on me. Thank you Joycie! Kathy

lettuce said...


i hope you have OF back now.
or soon...