I think I really am a hoarder. It's true. At least in the early stages of it. It is no exaggeration when I tell you that I have spent my entire adult life staying home to clean. "No, I don't want to go out tonight, dear funny friends. I need to stay home and clean, like other 23 year olds." Really? Let me tell you that was a waste of time because I cannot, CANNOT get past the chaos. Ever. Well, not yet anyway. I am not entirely stupid. I realize that staying home to clean instead of going out to socialize, even as a young adult, implies a certain level of....well, let's say, avoidance on my part.
I'm emotionally shut down and I know it. Which is odd especially when you consider that I never, ever shut up. (Haven't you noticed?) This morning I made my coffee and stumbled over to my (very cluttered) kitchen island looking for something warm to put on. My house has two stories and the downstairs is always cold. That's a good thing in the summer but it sucks in the winter. Especially when you haven't made your bed in 2 weeks and have been sleeping downstairs on the couch with the dogs every night. My power bill is going to be through the roof next month.
Yes, so. Here I am, freezing my buns off even though the heat is blasting away and I am drinking hot coffee at my own kitchen island. I fished my fake mink coat off of a dining table chair and found one pink slipper and one converse tennis shoe that I am wearing over my jammies now, as I type.
I'd been wearing this stunning ensemble for about an hour and that is about when I got a chat from my friend, Walter. When I told him what I was wearing (no, he did not ask, now that I think about it) he enthusiastically typed, "You should blog about that!" and I chuckled because all I could think was this.
"Walter, I am a 45 year old, never married woman with FIVE cats, TWO dogs (and a possum but that's another post) sitting in her single girl town house wearing a fake mink coat, yesterday's make-up, one pink slipper and one tennis shoe over her jammies and the worst part of the whole scenario is the fact that my counters are so cluttered it's obvious I am only one personal tragedy away from being a contestant on "Hoarding - Buried Alive".
I was so annoyed until I realized....Walter is RIGHT. I should blog about my outfit.
Aren't you glad I listened to him, you lucky bastards? Don't you wish that you could actually see the chaotic din of my belongings piling up around my head and feel that tingly horror that a person feels when they just...can't.......look..........away.
Imagine having that feeling at home. It's super special and it's the reason why that on the very same night that I accepted my new job I dreamt I hired my cleaning lady back. Dear, dear, dear sweet Lorena. How I wish I could hire you to live with me.
Sadly, that cannot be. I have to go out into the world and earn a living by keeping other people organized. Isn't that funny? Thank god we can't have cats at the office. I don't want people to know that my doorstep is knee deep in blankets, warming devices, dog house, fresh water and cat food for the neighborhood strays (and possum). Something they would quickly figure out if cats were allowed at work because my cubicle would look the same way in short order.
Oh, the dreaded cat lady. She is such a powerful archetype, the old haggard witch, the unmarried, unloved crazy cat lady. All women are afraid to be her and although we are good about making jokes and laughing....I promise you, it's not funny.
If you love a young, single woman and make crazy cat lady jokes, don't. I promise you that deep down that comment is hitting a painful nerve. Well, it was that way for me until about one fake mink fur coat ago.
Do I wish I had a happy marriage? Of course! Do I wish I had children to boss around? Oh my, yes. Would I be able to find socks and clothes to get everyone out the door to school and work each day? HELL NO. My poor family would resemble the scraggly cats that I feed and that would not be good. Plus, almost every married person I know is....you know, WORKING at it. Children....as much as I love them they are a great deal of worry. In this case I can see that it might be better to have never had than to have loved and lost. More importantly, children eventually figure out how to dial the phone and work the computer.
Which is how ladies like me end up on, "Hoarding - Buried Alive".
Oh, I don't think so, you little weasels! Seriously, I didn't bring you up to shame me like this....wait, get over here *falls over piles of newspapers and stray cats* so I can beat you with my only shoe....come back!
The life I live is not for everyone, I admit but it does have it's upsides. I never have to compromise and the dogs don't care that I let myself go years before we met. Heck, they don't even care if I pluck my chin whiskers. They like me exactly as I am. Exactly as I am.
It's time for me to brush my teeth, fish a suit out of this mess and go meet my new car pool buddies. I bet they think I am soooo organized, too.
I hope they don't notice the dog toys jammed into my purse or the faint scent of the cat nip inspired perfume I've taken to wearing.
Your ever lovin',
Miss Pierce
 |
| Please don't make me clean. Or talk to people. Or leave the house. |
I'm emotionally shut down and I know it. Which is odd especially when you consider that I never, ever shut up. (Haven't you noticed?) This morning I made my coffee and stumbled over to my (very cluttered) kitchen island looking for something warm to put on. My house has two stories and the downstairs is always cold. That's a good thing in the summer but it sucks in the winter. Especially when you haven't made your bed in 2 weeks and have been sleeping downstairs on the couch with the dogs every night. My power bill is going to be through the roof next month.
 |
| "Molly, have you seen my mink coat? I'm frozen half to death! |
Yes, so. Here I am, freezing my buns off even though the heat is blasting away and I am drinking hot coffee at my own kitchen island. I fished my fake mink coat off of a dining table chair and found one pink slipper and one converse tennis shoe that I am wearing over my jammies now, as I type.
 |
| I'm sexy and I know it! |
I'd been wearing this stunning ensemble for about an hour and that is about when I got a chat from my friend, Walter. When I told him what I was wearing (no, he did not ask, now that I think about it) he enthusiastically typed, "You should blog about that!" and I chuckled because all I could think was this.
"Walter, I am a 45 year old, never married woman with FIVE cats, TWO dogs (and a possum but that's another post) sitting in her single girl town house wearing a fake mink coat, yesterday's make-up, one pink slipper and one tennis shoe over her jammies and the worst part of the whole scenario is the fact that my counters are so cluttered it's obvious I am only one personal tragedy away from being a contestant on "Hoarding - Buried Alive".
I was so annoyed until I realized....Walter is RIGHT. I should blog about my outfit.
Aren't you glad I listened to him, you lucky bastards? Don't you wish that you could actually see the chaotic din of my belongings piling up around my head and feel that tingly horror that a person feels when they just...can't.......look..........away.
Imagine having that feeling at home. It's super special and it's the reason why that on the very same night that I accepted my new job I dreamt I hired my cleaning lady back. Dear, dear, dear sweet Lorena. How I wish I could hire you to live with me.
Sadly, that cannot be. I have to go out into the world and earn a living by keeping other people organized. Isn't that funny? Thank god we can't have cats at the office. I don't want people to know that my doorstep is knee deep in blankets, warming devices, dog house, fresh water and cat food for the neighborhood strays (and possum). Something they would quickly figure out if cats were allowed at work because my cubicle would look the same way in short order.
 |
| "Miss Pierce, have you seen the Thompson file....what the?!?!?!?!" |
Oh, the dreaded cat lady. She is such a powerful archetype, the old haggard witch, the unmarried, unloved crazy cat lady. All women are afraid to be her and although we are good about making jokes and laughing....I promise you, it's not funny.
If you love a young, single woman and make crazy cat lady jokes, don't. I promise you that deep down that comment is hitting a painful nerve. Well, it was that way for me until about one fake mink fur coat ago.
 |
| The single life is not for everyone. It can be real hard on a girl to get her own way all the time. |
Do I wish I had a happy marriage? Of course! Do I wish I had children to boss around? Oh my, yes. Would I be able to find socks and clothes to get everyone out the door to school and work each day? HELL NO. My poor family would resemble the scraggly cats that I feed and that would not be good. Plus, almost every married person I know is....you know, WORKING at it. Children....as much as I love them they are a great deal of worry. In this case I can see that it might be better to have never had than to have loved and lost. More importantly, children eventually figure out how to dial the phone and work the computer.
Which is how ladies like me end up on, "Hoarding - Buried Alive".
 |
| "Hello? TLC?" |
Oh, I don't think so, you little weasels! Seriously, I didn't bring you up to shame me like this....wait, get over here *falls over piles of newspapers and stray cats* so I can beat you with my only shoe....come back!
The life I live is not for everyone, I admit but it does have it's upsides. I never have to compromise and the dogs don't care that I let myself go years before we met. Heck, they don't even care if I pluck my chin whiskers. They like me exactly as I am. Exactly as I am.
 |
| It doesn't make you a hero, Colin. Dogs do it, too! |
It's time for me to brush my teeth, fish a suit out of this mess and go meet my new car pool buddies. I bet they think I am soooo organized, too.
I hope they don't notice the dog toys jammed into my purse or the faint scent of the cat nip inspired perfume I've taken to wearing.
Your ever lovin',
Miss Pierce