This is really FREE speech!
Volume 3 #11 August 19, 2002
This venture into ponderance is about a concept that captured my mind years ago. It was when my Little Guy got for a Christmas gift "The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes". It's a heavy read and he really enjoyed it. It super enhanced the analytical portion of his brain. Wherever scientists or psychics deem that to be located. Suddenly, he looked at everything as though it were a clue to solve the great mystery of the day. It was a deluge of questions and observations. A few examples: "Why do you always place the pots, plates and pans in the dishwasher in the exact same manner?" "Why do you polish the furniture the exact same three days of the week?" It went on and on but you catch the drift. I believe that's where the seeds were planted that blossomed into my obsessive compulsive disorder! I began to wonder when he would don the Sherlock garb. Pipe, checkered hat and coat. Fortunately, it never went that far. But, even though I never read the Holmes tome, I got stuck with the why and what if trip. Okay. Now I will lay it on you. Scenario: You get wiped out in a car accident or some other natural disaster. Abducted by aliens. Whatever vanishment is dealt to you. You walked away from your abode as if you would naturally return to it unscathed. Enter fickle fate. You do not, because of the prior stated reasons, get back home. The house or whatever you designate as your current place to stash your earthly belongings is just as you left it. Think about this. What would the men in blue or, God forbid, your relatives perceive was your lifestyle? Sit down and look about you. What do you see? Your furniture. We kindly dub ours eclectic. The coverings on your walls. Chagall origs we ain't got. It's Beatle posters here. Keep gazing. Remember you are ogling this for the very first time. You are summing up your life. How does the ambiance surrounding you reflect and depict your chosen path? Remember you are a detached stranger. You cannot justify why you have a self-autographed cocktail napkin proudly displayed on your coffee table that Elvis bestowed upon you during his last after death sighting. Oooh, and the list gets longer. What's in the fridge? Inexpensive (be real)... Cheap beer and wine. Are you a vegan or a carnivore? Yoghurt and a bag of luncheon meat. Frozen pizza and brussels sprouts. Fuzzy fresh fruit. You know, all those P.C. items you bought so you could confidently state: "Yes, I am a healthy eater!" Face it! You are a culinary dichotomy! The kitchen excursion is endless. Unmatched glasses and plates. Silverware you couldn't even unload at a desperately-seeking-anything swap meet. I know you are a bit exhausted from the kitchen reality check. But there are more rooms that you must endure. Do you exercise? How dusty is that treadmill. Let's not forget the weight stack that giggles defiantly as you approach it. On to the bathroom. Are your towels color coordinated with no ragged edges? How many half empty bottles of "this is you" shampoo, conditioner and body washes can you log? How about your sleeping quarters? California Queen. Waterbed. Man, that's retro. That word leads me to the closet. I am not a mall supporter. I'm still into the '70's experience. Adorn me with bell bottoms and a tie died t-shirt and I am ready to hit San Francisco with some flowers in my hair. But what about YOUR clothing map. Are you a suit, a latter day yuppie with the overdrawn bank account and canceled credit cards? This journey was meant to make you take an intrusive stock of yourself. If you don't like what you have discovered, change it. Modify it or solidify it. Whatever makes your wheels spin. There are many other spaces and places of self explanation to explore. But you know the drill. So, keep searching and don't ever be surprised at what someone else might find and shockingly blurt: "How in the H--- did this thing wind up here?" Don't berate yourself. After all, it's your digs. So, the rag pickers can't reckon it through. Wherever you are you can say with much amusement: "At least I left them wondering!"
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©2000 Carol Ann Carson
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