"Why his little red stapler should have found its way there, into the den, could not be answered. Things levitated and floated from room to room in this house: A stapler, which ordinarly was kept in a boy's desk, might inexplicably turn up open-jawed under the coffee table in the den; a box of Triscuits, empty or full, might make its temporary home on a bathroom counter. Objects moved and shifted and traded places, seemingly as restless as the people who owned them." Meg Wolitzer, The Position.

I am not a good housekeeper. my house tends to consist of piles of stuff that just gets moved around. i also have a tiny pat-rack compulsion. i never want to get rid of anything. i am constantly trying to find a thing that has gone missing and which can turn up anywhere. library books disappear, id/ credit/library cards go missing, and papers that the kids bring home from school just get sucked into the abyss. today i have turn in harry's school forms for next year and his order forms for school pictures. i am horrible with these things. when they come in i will think to myself--i need to put these some place special so i remember them and fill them out. then a week or two later when they HAVE to be filled out i have to scramble to remember where they are--ok, there were on type of the printer then ellyn moved that pile when she had to print something out then i stuck it on the bookshelves then where did i put it???? the only positive part of all this is that when i go on a drastic search for something (for instance right now i have been looking for my debit card for my UP account since last week because my dad put $$ in that account for mother's day/anniversary present ) i have to go through my various piles of shit and i find things i haven't seen in months.

my daughter has now taken to taking all the important papers that are some how related to her and putting them in her room. as soon as the paul westerberg tickets came in the mail i give them to her. i know with her they would be safe. (i just had a frightening thought of me as a crazy old lady and her having to come over and finding my social security stuff and tax info--and her thinking what a crazy old lady...when she dies i have to take care of all this shit)

(by the way frank, jay and sarah--i have now made it so you don't have to become a registered blogger to comment...hint..hint..HINT)