Story-a-Day: from the Asylum…

I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. Even as a little girl I would ask to use the broom or to fold the sheets. Father was scandalized–a princess cleaning? “I don’t pay these people to play with you,” he said. “Stop embarrassing me. Go, go, sing or something.”

I like to sing, sure. Who doesn’t? But cleaning is far more important? Don’t you think? The world is filled with germs and unseen poisons. You’d think father would appreciate the work I do. But no. And then I went to clean for those men. Oh, father never spoke to me again. What else was I to do though, I ask you. Why couldn’t he ever believe it wasn’t enough to sit and be pretty.

But things never got better. I was happy, true, cleaning for all those other men. They appreciated my work, and I’d never had anyone appreciate me before. If you have someone appreciate you, value that. Hold onto to that person. I didn’t, and look where I am now. I thought the time had come to move on, to try a new life, get married, all those things a girl dreams of, right? But everyone knows what happens when you marry too quickly. My husband–such a prince he was!–didn’t want a woman to clean up after him. He had that already. No. He wanted me to lie there and be pretty. 

“You can’t be pretty holding a mop,” he said. 

The nurses here tell me they can cure compulsions. I don’t know if I believe that. Do you?


Well, I wrote this in my head as was painting. My husband and I just bought our first house and the house needs some work. I need to get the painting done so that I can get my work space back in order because I’m behind on loads of work. 

And yet I try to write these stories. Now there’s a compulsion.




Magic Pixie Dust & Other Ways to Act like a Grown-up

My next art show is January 20th. My spring semester starts January 9th. I’m not prepared for either.

If I could give up washing dishes, laundry, walking the dog, and parenting, I might feel okay with these dates–and I might not have this headache.

But no pixie is going to sprinkle my apartment with magic dust and announce, “You now have the gift of extra time!”

Bills will not pay themselves. (Shocking, isn’t it?)

I don’t need to live in a spotless apartment (please, never stop by unannounced), but I do rather like eating off clean plates and wearing clothes that don’t smell. (I’m a conformist.)

The thing I’ve learned about art shows (at least, my art shows) is that they do not pay for themselves. From a budget perspective they are foolish endeavors… why go through all the bother?

I know plenty of people who when deciding where to live and what to study and what job to take look at the money. They have a lifestyle they want (above the basic food-and-shelter), and they act accordingly. Often these people have lovely houses in nice neighborhoods and they do things like take trips and go shopping for new clothes.

When I’m in these people’s houses I feel I’m from another planet and my brain is incapable of figuring out how these people manage it. They have matching furniture in the living room!

Okay, I’m rambling when I’ve got plenty of work to do.

If you know how to juggle everything and live like a grown up, please let me in on the secret.