red line
   Back to Archives
   Back to IF Home

Judy's House


Hello Everybody, and Welcome to Judy's House,

ah, adolescence.  Preparing for my day was incredibly important back then.  Every morning I'd shower, blow-dry my hair straight, then set it with electric rollers for one hour.  I'd apply my makeup as if my face was a color-by-number painting.  Then came the outfit.  My jeans were bleached out and shredded at the hems, topped by my tie-died zipper front body suit.  The zipper was open half way down my front. That was the way to wear it, in order to be cool.  From start to finish, I'd spend hours every morning on my "I do nothing to achieve this and could care less what you think" look.

Now, thirty years later, I start my day off a bit differently.

I wake up a half hour before the kids.  I go into the kitchen to make coffee.  The cat has thrown up all over the kitchen counter.  I clean it up and search for the cat.  I pass my husband on his way to the living room, with his morning paper in hand.  He sits in his favorite chair.  He learns (a bit late) that it's the cat's favorite chair too, as he realizes he is sitting in cat vomit.  Having dropped all his other suits off at the cleaners, I tell him to strip so that I can spot clean his soiled duds.  Running into the laundry room, I slip on a pile of cat poop.  I cut my knee,  It bleeds.  I keep my knee as far away from the suit as possible, avoiding an additional (and even more unsightly) stain. The kids are up.  They are screaming.  The cat has urinated on their backpacks.  My husband makes breakfast. The bread gets stuck in the toaster.  The smoke alarm goes off.   We open the front and back doors to air out the house.  The cat runs out the front door.  The kids run after the cat.  My husband runs after the kids, forgetting he is without pants.  The neighbors scream.

Shortly thereafter, my husband leaves for work in a slightly damp (but vomit-free) suit.  The kids leave for school carrying their books in plastic (but pee-free) bags.  The laundry room is poop-free.  So is the cat.  I get myself a cup of coffee and give the dehydrated feline a bowl of fresh water.

Remember that "I do nothing to achieve this and could care less what you think"  look?  Well, it took some time, but, finally, I've got that down to a science.

All the best to all of you,


white divider