Noise

Posted by Justine | March 28, 2008 | 11 Comments

My house is currently yelling at me. There are shouts coming from every corner. The floor is yelling “Pick that board game up off my hardwood!”, the laundry is yelling, “Fold me now or iron for three hours later!”, the kitchen is yelling, “I can’t last much longer under the weight of all these dishes!”, and the bedspread is yelling, “I’m just so ugly! can’t you do something about this?”

I need to go somewhere that’s quiet. Anything yelling over at your place? I’ll be right over…

My husband absolutely does not understand this phenomenon. He might think I’m slightly tipsy when I start talking about how loud it is in our house. When I try to explain, he tries, he really tries, to sympathize and offer solace. His solace, however, usually involves something along this line. “Honey, just ignore it. You’re raising children, not prepping for a magazine cover shoot.”

Wasn’t that sweet of him?

Problem is, as you can all perfectly well attest with me, it’s pure poppycock. I can no more ignore the noise than ignore my right arm.

I first heard my house in college. Back then the houses’ yells sounded vaguely like my mother’s voice. “You were taught better than this! I’m laying here on the floor and you know exactly where I belong! Put me away!” I easily ignored those yells. After all, I was still happily rebelling from my parents. Slowly, over time, the voice changed, and became my own. Then, dang it, it became harder to walk away from.

I first heard validation of my lunacy from some psycho-analyst lady I heard speaking at my mother-in-law’s home. She was actually saying that her house yelled at her, too! I was suddenly — and quite happily — not crazy.

I even tried to have at least one perfectly quiet room in the house — the bedroom. There I could retreat from the bombastic assaults and go somewhere calm and lovely. Problem was, the noise followed me. This noise, however, was the human variety. Ten little feet pattered around the house until they found me locked away in the only quiescent place in the whole joint.

Then they proceeded to trash it.

They brought in their books, their notepads, their 127 different color crayons, their Old Maid cards. They adorned me with 58 hand-drawn pictures of our family, our garden, our couch, or our home. They played one half a game of Old Maid and discarded the cards on the floor. They read one of the 19 books they’d brought, and then wandered off. They climbed on my perfectly made bed and bounced and floobed around until there were scattered pillows, acres of linens tossed about, and I was curled up in a little ball on the couch in the corner.

“What’s wrong mom?” they all would ask in earnest.

I would whimper out an answer, “I just cleaned this room…It was clean not five minutes ago…”

Their instant answer? “Hey! It looks great! Good work, mom!”

“Ummm, may I go downstairs and trash your rooms?” (ok, I didn’t actually say that but I really, really, wanted to)

So far, no truly quiet place has emerged. The closet would be great but for all the unused shoes yelling about why I still own them. The back yard just complains about the weeds and untended garden. the laundry room has about a million opinions on efficiency and timeliness, and the garage even throws in an opinion about tool organization. I’m afraid the only way for me to escape it is to come to your house.

For you see, no matter how much your house yells at you, it doesn’t yell at me. In fact, it doesn’t even whisper. Your house is the modicum of perfection and peace, even when you might so foolishly think it’s “dirty”.

Whatever, honey. Like I said, I’ll be right over.

Category: Daily Special

Comments

11 Responses to “Noise”

Dalene
March 29th, 2008 @ 6:50 pm

I like this post Justine. If my bedroom were clean right now (it’s not) I could also relate to how the voices and their things follow you into your sanctuary. And the part about your husband reminds me of the time I was on crutches after and uexpected ACL surgery and I was worried about cleaning the toilets (among other things) and my husband said, “Just don’t worry about house.” It made me wonder if it suddenly would start cleaning itself (it didn’t).

The truth is I know someday (after the kids leave) the house will stop yelling at me. And then I will probably feel a little sad because it’s too quiet.
maralise
March 31st, 2008 @ 6:07 am

Yes yes. I hear it. And my husband doesn’t. And it feels so good to know that I am not alone. But, what do we do about it? Keeping the house clean 100% of the time is not a feasible and sane option for me but in lieu of that, what’s else can we do? You can’t ignore it. You can’t “forget about it.” Does anyone have any advice?
Melissa
March 31st, 2008 @ 10:07 am

Let’s all switch houses for a while. I would love to come to Vienna .

Not sure what to do for real, though. I hate the yelling, and I hate that I’m the only one that hears it, and I hate that because of it, I start yelling too. It feels sometimes like I am the energy force behing everything that happens at home. Seriously, my kids know how to tell time, but do they make even one move to get dressed in the morning until I tell them to? No. Do they even notice the dishes or realize their capacity to fold laundry? No. I have to ask them. Even after multiple conversations about it. I guess I should enjoy my nothing-happens-until-I-say-so omnipotence, but it just makes me tired. No wonder we are supposed to not be compelled in all things. I’m sure we just wear God out.
Claudia
March 31st, 2008 @ 10:40 am

My house is quiet as can be. The dust and stains just lay there. They are quite at home. Clutter as long as it stays out from under my feet can have a long shelf life.

Others peoples’ houses yell at me. They say really unkind things about the people who live in them but don’t pick up a few things. I don’t want much just one chair enough stuff moved out of the way so that I can sit down. I would rather not be greeted by dust bunnies on the stairs in the entry way or find clothing that belongs in the closet on the kitchen counter.

But, I don’t mind a few dust bunnies in my own corners in my house as long as someone doesn’t drop in and get yelled at by them.
Wendy
March 31st, 2008 @ 2:41 pm

My house is screaming its head off right now. I’m in for visiting somebody else’s house. My ears hurt.
Karen
March 31st, 2008 @ 4:45 pm

Yep, mine yells at me too. I’m always amazed that everyone else in the family can walk right over the clutter without it yelling at them. When it seems really bad I make sure my room is clean first so I can go there for quiet. (Of course it is only quiet in my room if I keep the kids out!)
Kristen
March 31st, 2008 @ 7:29 pm

Oh no. I can see myself writing this exact essay in just a few years from now. I’m already going insane thinking about it. Is there any hope for peace??!! Maybe I will just have to escape once in a while to the public library after everyone has gone to bed..that might give me the quiet I need!!
Dalene
March 31st, 2008 @ 10:31 pm

You know I keep waiting for those dust bunnies (are they cousin to the Easter bunny?) to visit my house and take care of the dusting, but they keep passing me by. It’s kind of depressing really.
Elizabeth
March 31st, 2008 @ 10:31 pm

I spent the first 5 years of married life stressing out any time my parents came to visit us (a couple times a year). My mom is tidy. Her house never shouts at her because she is so on top of it, even when we were kids.
Then we moved to the same town. I’ll never forget the first time I realllly looked at her house. I noticed the same things I notice in mine…crumbs in the corners of the kitchen, hard water stains in the shower, little stuff. And then my house stopped shouting. It’s still pretty sassy at me, but not nearly to the extent it had been.
Adri
April 1st, 2008 @ 5:09 pm

Thanks for making me laugh today.
Heather O.
April 2nd, 2008 @ 12:17 pm

Let’s house swap.