Anyone who reads this blog knows that my house can be described as, well, a mess. Perhaps a shambles. A shambling mess. Truthfully, a disastrous 'Flylady would run screaming from this putrid inferno of dirt and rubbish' mess.
Anyone who reads this blog also knows that I live in a different dimension than my neighbors, the moms' club moms, and most people in the city I live in.
So, that being said. Let me introduce....
My New Neighbor.
Alas, could it be, a new neighbor? What, what is that person doing, walking down the road, with a dare I think it, toddler? Perchance, a two-year old toddler? Toddling down the road? Toward, no she wouldn't, yes, she's making her way over here, mimicking her little girl's toddly toddler steps... what Do I do? Panic panic panic.
So she comes over and says hi. She told me her name, but I have no clue what it is. I can tell she's secretly pleased that my boys are the appropriate age for her daughter. She's probably thinking 'playgroup potential' and the kids all settle down with chalk while we sit down and chat on my half-dead lawn. All is going well. So I think. It should, right? Nothing could go wrong. My lawn is done, and looks nice currently...
But oh no. It would have to happen. Little Toddler falls and scrapes her knee.
Note to readers: my personal reaction to scraped knees is, whatever, here's a paper towel, wipe off the blood, and go back to playing in the dirt. I can't help it. I've never known a kid to get infected from a scraped knee. Later on, once we get in, I'll throw the obligatory neosporin on it, but that's about it. Anyhow, in this dimension, where I live, that's not the standard reaction.
I am hoping she lives in my dimension. You see, the house, the debris in the house, it isn't meant for the eyes of folks in Suburbian Dimension 34479, it's okay for those in SD's 3300-34450, but those dimensions were filled, and I was put here. Oh how I long for SD 33439, it was nice there... I digress.
I invite her in to wash her kid's knee. I didn't really have a choice, she gave me that plaintiff "I don't want to walk all the way home can I use your faucet" look. So she goes in, up my unvacuumed debris-strewn turquoise carpet, ripped up at the top of the stairs for the impending floor repair (this weekend, promises McRed Floorman) turns left at the laundry pile (clean, folded and mostly in the basket but still) walks over the subflooring (see McRed Floorman) over the nice part of the floor and turns right into the sticky-stain vinyl floored kitchen with spaghetti dishes piled to the faucet, McDonalds on the table (and floor) and leftover breakfast yogurt (I had to run out the door at 9:30 a.m. I didn't have time to clean!) as well as the piles and piles of junk mail I haven't gone through yet (in case some of it is important) and the tools McRed Floorman will be using on the floors, and of course she can see the screen door with blue tape on the screen (I have to fix the screens this week, yes yes leave me alone) and says 'it's okay. I believe in a fun house or a clean house, not both.' Ahh the lies. Anyone who says that actually has a clean house, but wants you to think they aren't hung up about it, and pretends it's dirty. Those without clean homes (aka, me) are constantly paranoid about it, and think life would be kinda nifty and fun in an actual clean home...
So then we all go back outside, and the moment my other neighbor came out, she beelined it over there. See, my neighbors, the ones I usually speak of, are from SD 34479, and always have clean houses and nice lawns. This new neighbor is clearly from this dimension as well, and while Gravy tells me not to give up on her yet, I can tell an SD 34479er from a mere messy SD 34439er.
I'm pretty sure she will never engage me in conversation again, however, I refuse to give up. Why, just today, as I was taping my daughter's room for the Lizzie McGuire Orange paint that is going to don her walls as of tomorrow night, I saw her, and yelped out a big friendly loud "HI!"
She said a quick 'Hi' and she and her toddler toddled on back...
So. Now we've met the new neighbor.