The Black Hole

Guess what I've been doing?

Cleaning the black hole. Well, that's what I call it anyway. It's our front living room. Well, that's what it's supposed to be anyway.

But in actuality, it's a pit.

My name is Tanja, and I am a pack rat. It's been at least a year since the black hole, er, the pit, uh, the living room, has been cleaned. Okay, don't freak out on me. It's not nasty filthy. I vacuum in there constantly. Well, usually.

There are simply piles upon piles of STUFF in there.

It drives Bruce nuts, and he regularly encourages me ever so gently (not so much!) to organize in there. Yet, if I were to take a picture at this present time of that particular room, you would plainly see tons of things in there that couldn't possibly be qualified as my things. You would also plainly see my husband have a total conniption. Hence the lack of a photo.

Computer parts, mostly. Some school supplies awaiting use in MBA classes. A coat tree holding the kid's church coats (because I don't trust them not to slip them on when they're going out into the yard to play in dirt) and motorcycle garb (because that doggone protective gear is too plump to fit in our foyer closet along with the two jackets we each wear regularly and the dozen others we don't). Assorted cords, to... what?... I'm not sure. These are mostly Bruce's things.

And yet, there's the other side of the room. My junk. Books, mostly. Unread, which is why I still have them. Hand-me-down shoes that don't quite fit the kids yet. Tote bags for various functions: Bible Study Fellowship tote, Keep-the-Kids-Quiet-During-Sunday-Evening-Services tote, Sunday school teaching materials tote. And lots of homeschooling materials.

And in one corner stands a tower. Better known as a file cabinet. Four drawers high. We use only two drawers. And sitting on top of it, its crowning glory, our printer.

The problem is, this room lacks function. And it hasn't moved past the baby stage like the rest of the house has. The kids are 7 and 5. They aren't babies. It's time. We no longer have to hide the printer or the answering machine, which also sits in there.

I asked Bruce if we could make a deal. I'll get the whole room presentable so that we no longer have to pull the photo-collage, room-divider screen across the doorway when company comes. And he is going to allow me to buy furniture to put in there.

Real furniture. Not a file cabinet. That is NOT furniture. And I have plans to phase that huge monstrosity outta there! We need a two-drawer filing cabinet. Because we use only two drawers, you see.

I did agree to buy used furniture, however. Because the big money (that we don't yet have) is going to go toward new furniture in our den. One day. In the distant future.

I can wait. Until the kids no longer use the cushions from our couch to recreate a scene from a war in which they dive, using their bodies as bombs, onto the poor, defenseless cushions lying on the floor. My mom has stitched the sides of our cushions each time she has visited since the twins were born.

SSWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWIIIIIISSHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Gotta go. That giant sucking sound is the black hole beckoning me again.