There is a word that parents hate. It’s ironic, really. I mean, most of us actually teach our children the word and then live to regret it. And that word is “why.”
Once a child learns the word “why,” you can pretty much guarantee that the parents of said child will soon be driven insane. This is because children love that word. In fact, once a child learns this word, they will not stop using it. I don’t care if your child is 2 or 22, they all ask “why” about anything and everything.
But I’m turning the tables today. That’s right. I have a few “whys” of my own.
Take my first why–why is there always at least one sock on my kitchen island? I’m serious. I can clean the entire kitchen, put everything away, take the sock and dump it in the laundry and when I come back downstairs, there is always (and I mean always) another sock on the island. Is this a vast sock conspiracy? Do I have bad sock karma? Did I injure a sock in a previous life and now all the socks on the planet are messing with me?
And why are the socks on the kitchen island in the first place? Let’s be honest. The kitchen island is a place where meals are eaten and prepared—or in my case, the takeout bags are unloaded. But why, oh why, are there stinky, old socks on it? That can’t be sanitary. Can it?
And why do I get so much junk mail? Seriously, there is more junk mail in my mailbox than actual mail. I’m shocked when I get real mail these days. And before you ask, yes, I have signed up on those lists that supposedly keep the junk mail fairies from cluttering up my mailbox. And yet I’m still inundated by fliers and letters and faux magazines.
Here is the biggest question about my junk mail. Why the heck do I keep it? I’m not kidding. I save junk mail. I don’t know why. I have a huge pile of mail on my desk as I write this—all of it advertising “Great Deals on Hardwood!” Or, “Investment Opportunity for You!” And the ever popular, “Trade in Your Car Today!” Um, I don’t need hardwood, investment opportunities that are mass-mailed or a new car. And yet those fliers are still on my desk. I think this may be a sign of insanity or possibly that hoarding disease or both.
Why do my neighbors/friends/strangers always come over my house on the day when it’s a mess? Look, I don’t have a housecleaner. It’s just my broom and me. The house is usually decent—except when people arrive at my door. I don’t know why. I think there might be some dust bunnies that hear the doorbell ring, and then run around creating a huge mess. But we aren’t pigs. Well, Junior is. But Harry and I are not pigs. Most of the time.
Why is it that I can fold an entire load of laundry and by the time it gets put away, it’s always unfolded? Check out Junior’s dresser. Every shirt in there is a rolled up ball of fabric. But I swear to you, I folded those clothes. I creased those puppies so they don’t need to be ironed, mainly because I loathe ironing with the fire of a thousand suns. Yes. I do hate it that much. And no, I’m not exaggerating just a bit.
And speaking of laundry, how can I do a billion loads in one day and still have a full hamper? How the heck does that work? Are laundry baskets never-ending? Are they like little black holes of dirty clothes?
Why does the dog only eat the shoes I really, really like? It’s not that I’d be okay with her eating my ugly shoes—it’s just that she always eats my favorite shoes. Really. Why can’t she chew on the shoes I don’t use, like my ski boots or my work out shoes? And while I’m on this subject, why doesn’t she eat Harry or Junior’s shoes? Oh wait. I know the answer to that. Even the dog doesn’t want to smell those up close. And trust me when I say she’s usually not very picky about what she’s sniffing.
You know, I’m starting to like this “why” thing. I don’t have many answers, but I feel better now that I’ve asked the questions.Add me to your rss reader | Become a Fan on Facebook!