"There's no trick to being a humourist when you
have the whole government working for you." -- Will Rogers
Government? Try having a very active 7 year old! Eighty percent of my columns are based on life with him. Below are just a couple of small "dittys" that I've written:
The Rose Bush
My sister and I were out working in the yeard on a beautiful sunny day. We decided to cut down as small pine tree that was nestled in too tightly to my special rose bush. Carefully, we cut and sawed and dug until we got the tree out without so much as a thorn damaged on the rose bush. We swept up the mess and were quickly on to another project when I heard a sickening crack! We looked over and there was my six year old son. He had fallen off his bike directly onto my prized rose bush! I raced over, furious, but before I could scold him thoroughly, he interjected, white-faced and forlorn, "Well mom .. it was either me or the bush and you can always get another rose, you can't get another me!" (published Executive Baby, May/June 1996) ©1996
Abodeaphobia. The newly identified fear of having an unexpected visitor when your house is a mess.
And let's face it gals, we've all been there. While apologizing profusely to our guest for the state of our home ("it's not usually like this") they politely tell us that they didn't come to see our house, they came to see us.
But as common as this is, I happen to know of a woman who has never suffered from this afflication. June arises at 5:30 every morning and goes for a long jog with her hubby. Upon returning to her abode, she makes herself look perfect, and then heads to the kitchen where she cooks a marvellous breakfast for her 7 (soon to be 8) offspring! Then she drives her children to preschool, elementary school, and junior high. The rest go with her to the gym where she teaches aerobics. All this, and her house stays immaculate.
I have proof. One day, I went to my client Shelly's home. After an attack of abodeaphobia upon my arrival, she began describing her neighbour, "the alien," that would never be caught with a messy home. I quickly assured her that her house could never be as bad as mine (why do we tell practical strangers about the state of our homes?, you'd never tell anyone you were wearing underwear with holes!). When, suddenly I realized she was talking about June!
Shelly had sent her daughter over to June's house for a very large birthday party. During which, June called to see if Shelly could bring over a bathing suite for her daughter. She grabbed the first one she could and was on June's doorstep in 30 seconds. Definitely no time for June to tidy up. When she got there, her face fell. June was entertaining 20 kids and there wasn't a thing out of place. Confirming, June really is an alien.
Definitely one of the Goddess types from Venus who had supernatural powers. Maybe she was even related to Samantha Stevens and could just twitch her nose. Whatever she is -- she can't be human. For like Shelly and myself, abodeaphobia is a disorder we will all have to live with. Between the car pools, piano lessons, ballet, baseball, meals to prepare, and work, the house is always the thing that sufers.
Abodeaphobia is definitely an earthling disease of the 90s. Kind of makes you wish you were an alien, eh?! (published Executive Baby, July/August 1996) ©1996
©1998 Bev Huston