Horizontal Surfaces

Horizontal Surfaces

I’m relating an incident that happened around mid-December.

So we’re remodeling a room, again. We have to find out what the wall is like behind the scenes, because we are placing some really fun windows between the two surfaces to give some light and air between two rooms. The idea is to put two leaded glass windows in a wall, with an antique stained glass window between. The effect, in my mind, will be grand. And if we can get the artist person we’ve assigned to the task to do this right, the leaded glass windows will open to let air circulate. Sort of like the transom windows of old.

So, I dutifully empty the wall of one room of all pictures, then the top of a bookcase of all knicky-knacky stuff. You know the stuff: a temperature station, a lamp, a memorial to our dead dog, the toothpick holder, the cool old vintage teapot, the cool vintage pitcher, some other fun stuff. I empty the wall of all pictures that were there. At least ten really interesting pictures were all over this large wall. Special items, fun items.

Then the next day, the top of the bookcase is still clean as a whistle. I think, sure, why not. I put the temperature station back. I put a kitschy mug back.

Then hubby says, “You just cannot leave a horizontal surface bare for a day, can you.”

In my mind, a gauntlet is thrown down, let me tell you. Man the battle stations.

I destroyed the vintage teapot, smashed. A vintage pitcher, smashed. That felt good. No big loss really. They weren’t worth much. But somehow smashing things when you are angry can be a good outlet. Then I went around the house.

All Christmas decorations were taken down. All other decorations, taken down. Anything on a horizontal surface, gone. Anything that I made, and I had some cute crocheted animals, gone. Books on the floor, gone. Clothes lying anywhere, gone. Anything that gave anyone a clue that someone other than my husband lived here was gone. The first floor was cleansed. All went to the second floor where I have a little office.

I told my husband I was no longer decorating for holidays. If he wanted a Christmas tree, he’d have to put it up. If he wanted to decorate for any holiday, he could do it. We don’t have company, we don’t entertain. No skin off my nose, as they say.

And after I was done having that temper tantrum, I went away on my quite adventure-some trip to California for a week. It was as if I was sent on a cooling-off exile, a child sent to a corner to think about what they did wrong.

Take that. I know, pretty childish. But then, since I have to clean all horizontal surfaces, shouldn’t I have some say in what populates them? It was not clutter, in my mind.

Since I returned from California I’ve purged more stuff from the house. Things I no longer need. Old craft items, old clothes, old books. New year, new attitude. Hubby still has all his stuff, i.e. tools, lying about. All his clutter that I continue to clean around are still here.

Now it is mid-January and the bookcase top, aka horizontal surface, is still empty. I dare anyone to put something there.

W/C 496