I’ve been writing this blog for a couple of years now. It started out as a way for me to offer hints and tips, from my own life, to help others live a natural lifestyle on the cheap. Somehow, in the last year-ish, it’s morphed into anecdotes about my family. Or as my husband likes to call it, his weekly, public flogging.
Though it may be true that this has become a place where I offer a look through the windows of the Nigro household, I like to think that I am impartial in my observations. I definitely invest a good amount of time on the children, for which I am sure to pay dearly one day. And I do try to fairly represent my own “crazy” — I’m just way better at explaining his. Plus, he gives me so much material.
But, it doesn’t seem fair that my neighbor can mock Brian’s sticky-phobia when he’s out walking the dog, and have no material with which to skewer me. So, since I’m such a loving and equitable spouse, this week is dedicated to my long-suffering husband. I will give you a very brief glimpse into the crazy that is Laurie. Just remember that we’re still (happily) married, so at the end of the day, all that crazy wraps up neat enough to keep us coming back for more.
And speaking of wrapping up neatly, that’s a good place to start. I am a bit of a neat freak. And by that I mean that messes make me bat-shite crazy. Of course, it’s normal to want to live in a clean and tidy house. But that’s not really my thing. Though relatively clean on most days, the layers of dust and tumbleweeds of animal fur rolling through my home keep me out of that category. No, I’m talking about OCD-style tidying.
I’m not going to bed if the couch pillows are not properly aligned. Nor does my head hit the pillow with a sink full of dirty dishes. If the dishwasher is already on and I’m just too tired to hand wash one or two stragglers, then they need to be stacked in an orderly fashion in the sink; cups in size order, dirty silverware in those cups, all on top of or inside of any bowls/plates.
Let’s just acknowledge that some of my crazy comes from the simple fact that I’m a woman. I think most women would understand many of my little idiosyncrasies. What Brian thinks is my brain making a mockery of sanity is really just the unwritten rules of womanhood.
Things like ironing clothing is a foreign concept to my husband. Growing up in a house full of boys left him without a comprehension of wrinkle free clothes. Whenever I suggest that something should not be worn because it looks like he wrestled an angry bear while wearing it, he bristles. The first time I ever went to his house and asked for an iron (we were headed to an anniversary party with his father and brothers), I was met with four blank stares.
Eventually, I was pointed to a corner of the garage, where I retrieved a small appliance that resembled an iron. The whole time I used it, I received a constant, low current of electrical shock. It took hours for my hand to stop tingling.
Some of my other crazy comes from living with a bunch of filthy slobs. How can any human tolerate a house that does not have a single clear surface? I spend each evening wandering from room to room, yelling to the people I share my home with. It’s like living with crows who compulsively collect shiny objects. But instead of tucking them neatly into nests, they sprinkle the trash throughout the house, so I can yell like a banshee. There may have even been an instance or two where I gathered all these items into a large trash bag and hauled them away like an evil reverse-Santa.
Of course, this is just scratching the surface of my compulsive behavior. Brian would probably suggest I mention the color requirements in my knife block (who would put a white knife in the midst of a black set?!) or maybe my unnerving need to follow him around the kitchen, cleaning up each item as he uses it, whether he’s finished or not (my response would be that it wouldn’t be necessary to do so if I felt confident that he would do it himself). But at the end of the day, this is still my blog. And as long as he keeps providing me with such abundant material, I will continue to share it with you.
When Brian gets in the kitchen, I usually develop a twitch. Though he’s a fabulous cook, an angry honey badger would cause less mess. I’ve spent many years honing my husband-damage-control skills. You don’t need to invest as much time. Simply subscribe to the Fly Lady. She will give you the support you need to deal with all the chaos and mess that comes with having a house that people live in. FlyLady recommends starting with a shiny sink. You can check out her step by step instructions (and even a video) here.
Good luck. May the force be with you.
Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street. Contact her by email to laurie@riverheadlocal.com.
