Sorry, I’m Not Responsible for Your Perceptions

I’ll admit it, I’m not always proud of the way our house looks. In fact, my nerves are on high alert right now because my computer guy is coming in today to check my computer, do upgrades, backups, etc. and answer a few questions for me. It didn’t bother me much until I took a good look at our back porch–which is what you see when you walk into the door to the breezeway.

Just to name a few things that most folks do NOT have on their back porch, there is:

  • a box of grubby-looking garlic bulbs we harvested from our garden last fall
  • a torn LL Bean bag full of donations for the Salvation Army
  • a dusty bowl of cat kibble (for when the two boys, Pookie and Plumpy-Nut, want to sit out there)
  • an entire shelf filled with the Crankee Yankee’s (my husband) odd bits he’s saving for “later” – rusty hinges, assorted nails and screws, piled-up cardboard flats (because you never know when you’ll need them), a few crowbars and hammers, a dust pan filled with–you guessed it–DUST, and so on
  • four neatly stacked wicker chairs, the top one filled with rags (clean ones, anyway)
  • a wooden wind chime, shaped like a watermelon, with an old wasp nest inside
  • Stacks of boards in assorted sizes (again, because you never know when you’ll need one)
  • our beat-up old dingy white wicker rocker with a black-and-white cushion now covered in cat hair
  • various torn towels and a few old shirts destined to become rags (they just haven’t graduated to that status yet)
  • “Uncle Winklebaum,” our garden gnome, who winters on the back porch but spends the spring, summer and fall standing guard in our garden
  • Likewise, a resin black and white cat, whose eyes creepily follow you everywhere
  • several paint cans half-full of dubious beige paint
  • a crap-brown bureau piled with neatly stacked paper bags (again–ready to use when you need one)
  • various dirty plastic buckets “because I can use them later”<insert eye roll here>

…and the “coop de doo,” the ratty old pleather recliner that the cats have literally torn to shreds (seriously, all its guts are hanging out). It’s out there because FINALLY we are making the living room ready for our two new chairs. (The delivery men are also removing the ratty red sofa that has become so rump-sprung that the Crankee Yankee and I are getting butt cancer from it.)

So–that’s what our computer guy will see when he walks in this morning. At first, I panicked and decided to spend last night cleaning up. How could I let someone see that horrible mess out there? Then I smacked myself in the forehead and realized that no, I was NOT going to do that. The computer guy can think what he wants–it’s not his business. He’s there to work on my computer; that’s his business. If he wants to get upset about the state of my files, well, fine. They are a mess; I admit it.

But until he becomes an interior decorator, he can just shut up about the back porch.

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