| Last Edit November 21, 1996 I am temporarily unemployed due to circumstances that are beyond my control. I have two weeks to fall back and regroup. Sort of. Thanksgiving is in there somewhere. And I have to prepare for Christmas when I will also have two weeks of downtime. We will forget a week in February and a week in March. This is the calm before the storm. These are an executive attempt to let the company fall back and regroup. I hope it works. Looking for work at 54 is not a fun prospect. No one wants you. You are talented, they say, you have lots of training, lots of experience, they say, you should have no trouble, they say. Right. So I am at home and contemplating my options. Actually I am reduced to watching Jenny Jones doing makeovers for slob husbands. They are in dirty clothes. They are belching and farting on cue. They don't bathe. They don't change their underwear. They don't shave. They stink. I am glad I am single. The sound effect crew think adding farts and belches makes the show better. Have we checked these people into a home yet? What is it that makes this attractive? Why don't we teach kids to wash? With soap? And to flush? Why haven't they picked this up? What happened to manners? What happened to civilization? I try real hard to teach proper behavior to my boys. Like lift the lid. Don't use it for a target. Wipe up the spills. Flush. Wash your hands. These are simple things. Given the E-coli outbreak, these are sensible, life-preserving things. I promptly removed wall-to-wall carpet from the house in San Diego when we first bought it. Never, ever put carpet in the bathroom that can't be routinely lifted and put in the washer. With hot water and strong detergent. Especially in a bathroom that is to be used by boys. Boys of any age. I spent weeks wondering if I had a leak in the toilet before I found my then six-year-old was lifting the lid, and using the center as a target. We had a long talk. A very long talk. A vice President I know says men are not specific. If they make it inside the room it is enough. The particular fixture is sometimes not important. Gag! I know boys are bad on the bathroom. I have lots of experience. After all, I am a Boy Scout leader. An assistant Scoutmaster. A trained High-Adventure Leader. Good thing. I have seen kybos after a scout troop has used them. I have lectured that self- same scout troop. How is it that a 3-foot wide bench got completely drenched? Why is the seat soaked? Why is the paper wet? Do you need targets? If you need help aiming, let one of the leaders know. We'll assist you! (This threat had the appropriate response. They stopped missing. At least for the rest of that outing.) The scout master would not defend them. Told them he had been raised with a sister. Told them he already knew these rules. He used to be a scout. There is hope. But I still carry my own paper on outings and check the seat for something besides wildlife. I demand showers or baths at regular intervals from my sons (once every 24 hours or more often when needed). I try to demand that clothes that need washing at least make it to the laundry room. My 15-year-old tells me he can't possibly pick up his dirty laundry or hang up a new roll of toilet paper 'cause it's woman's work. (He was joking. I knew that. He's still breathing.) He also is fond of bear-hugging me so he can force my nose into his armpit. Thinks this is cute. Uh huh. Why is it that big men (he's topping 6 feet) seem to see this as a sign of affection? Where did we lose them? He never, ever picks up his dirty socks or underwear. He goes outside in his socks and then he rolls his socks into donuts that no detergent could ever get clean. Towels are draped over every conceivable object in his room save his computer. Shirts are flung. Pants have lives of their own. They wear their own shorts. Shoes I won't discuss. The deodorant remains untouched next to the unused toothpaste. But at least he won't wear dirty clothes. When he put a pair of pants through the washer with a pen in the pocket, we had to buy new socks and shorts. And bleach his shirts. He refused to play connect the dots. And he takes 30 minute showers. And uses soap! Sometimes he even brings his gym clothes home for washing. Like once a month. I keep a big box of Surf for these occasions. He doesn't care to wear a smelly shirt. But barbecue sauce down the front is OK. Like the ad. If it doesn't splash all over the place.... Only once did he threaten to find the least smelly shirt to wear to school -after a comedian had pointed out that there were degrees of filth - and when he had forgotten to tell me the night before that he had worn all his clean ones - I had washed everything I could find but I missed the three down behind the bed and under the blanket that lives there. I threatened dire consequences (whatever they are) if he dared wear a dirty shirt. I am good at threats. I have had lots of practice. They get especially creative when my children pull these stunts as I am heading out the door to work. A favorite pastime of theirs for some reason. I guess they enjoy watching conniptions. He wore a damp shirt to school. Clean, just damp. He got to school on time. My older child no longer lives at home. He keeps the apartment clean. He uses Lysol. He no longer lifts the lid for a target. He must have picked something up from the lectures. Too bad he never practiced at home. But, as I said, there is hope. |
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