Home Sweet [Clean] Home

Posted: June 7, 2011 in childhood
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Finally. My boss is home from Europe, and I am home from my bosses. After almost a month straight of house sitting, it is nice to be home, chilling with the cat and my laptop. I picked up my boss and his partner from the airport a little after 10, and I’ve been reveling in being home ever since. Especially since my house is sparkly and clean. I came home this morning and cleaned. It’s one of those annoying/cathartic things that I don’t really enjoy, but simultaneously revel in. Since the house I grew up in never felt clean, I derive a pretty significant amount of satisfaction from feeling like my own house is a clean, safe, healthy place to be.

When I house sit for my boss, I tend to have weird dreams that revolve around my childhood and/or my house. I think it has something to do with the fact that when I’m house sitting, and walking through the neighborhood where my boss lives, looking at all the nice, big family houses, it always makes me think about how I grew up. It makes me think about families, and about what goes on inside the walls of a house. What makes a house into a home? I’m not entirely sure, but I know the answer is somewhere in the combination of love and support and discipline and encouragement that I didn’t get. I look at these big fancy houses/homes and somewhere in the back of my head I go back to being a little kid, wide-eyed, and wondering what it must be like to be a kid and get to go home every night to one of those nice, clean, painted and polished houses/homes. Part of me can’t really wrap my head around what that must be like.

Wondering about that sort of thing too much can be dangerous territory for me. It’s hard sometimes not to focus so hard on all the things I didn’t have that I lose sight for a while of the things that I did. More important, the things I didn’t have made me into the person I am today, and she’s finally someone I really genuinely like. But for the younger, childlike version of me that didn’t and to some extent still doesn’t understand all of the needlessly traumatic things I went through as a little kid, it’s hard not to be angry. While the childlike version of me is busy having a tantrum, it puts the 27 year old me in serious danger of becoming bitter.  Letting go of all that anger is hard, but deep down on a level I can’t always get to, it’s liberating. It’s what will allow me to live my life and love (almost) every minute of it, and not wind up broken and wasted.

For now, though, I just can’t wait to curl up in my nice warm bed, with my clean sheets, and my freshly vacuumed carpet, and my kitty…and no mice.

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