MWF Seeking Wife

I don’t know what’s happened to me. I was the child in our family who had the well-organized and tidy room, the one who requested a vacuum cleaner for Christmas one year, the one who at the age of three would stand at the dishwasher and help her mother load the knives and forks and spoons, waiting for the day when she could graduate to loading plates and glasses. I hated clutter and chaos and had to have everything just so. Now I live in a house that seems to be an experimental laboratory for creating new Greek and Egyptian gods. Maybe what happened is that life, and a space much larger than a child’s bedroom, as well as the discovery of things far less loathsome than cleaning toilets, got in the way.

When I tell you my house is a mess, I’m not talking here about the kind of "mess" some people will bemoan. I’ve walked through the doors of many a house in which the owners apologize for the huge mess, and have been blinded by shiny glass table tops, streak-free windows, stainless white carpets, and pastel walls sporting no marks whatsoever. I look around rooms that hold nothing but furniture and neatly arranged entertainment centers. Where are the endless piles of newspapers and books? Where’s the stain on the kitchen floor that marks the spot where the dog food bowl goes? Where are the jackets draped over the dining room chairs? And why is the table free of junk mail, unpaid bills, the bird feather found on the last walk in the field, a half-eaten bar of chocolate? Where’s the closet that’s so stuffed full of junk the doors have broken? I’m desperately looking for signs of human occupancy, let alone the "huge mess." Then I discover it. I walk into the bathroom and find a couple of hairs in the sink. I take a walk out onto the patio, where three children’s toys lie abandoned in the middle of the floor. "Hate" would be a rather harsh term to use to describe the way I feel about people who manage to keep these kinds of homes, so let's just say I don't like them very much.

When I first started telecommuting, I thought things would change. I was sure I’d feel like tackling the clutter and finally having "a place for everything and everything in its place." I was convinced that the house was always such a mess, because I worked all day, had a long commute, and was just too tired to do anything about it during the week. I was also convinced that it was all Bob’s fault, whose homemaking skills are worse than mine, and who deserves to have his face sketched in Webster’s next to the word "packrat." He won’t throw anything away, which means we have constant battles, because I see no reason to save plastic spoons from picnics and cardboard coasters from every pub and bar we’ve visited around the world.

I’ve been working from home for four months now, and I think I’m going to have to admit nothing’s changed. I don’t get up at six and spend an hour tidying and mopping before I sit down to work every morning. I know, that sounds insane, doesn’t it? But I actually had visions of it being something I might do once I no longer had to jump in a car and fight morning traffic. You know, sort of trading one insanity for another. What I’ve discovered, though, is that I much prefer no insanity. I’ve also discovered that I’m responsible for a good deal of the mess. After all, those size 7 shoes left around in the living room and the study don’t fit Bob’s feet, and all those publishing journals scattered about in the "Santa Fe" room hold absolutely no interest for him.

That’s why I’m in search of a wife. You see, I'm still not particularly fond of the dirt and the clutter, but I don't want to have to do what I know I would in order to be rid of it. I'm too busy working and reading and writing and cooking. I'm looking for the sort of wife who loves to tidy and clean, and who loves to deal with repair men and plumbers, so things don’t just sit around unfixed for months on end. She doesn’t even have to cook, as I’ll take care of that (although it would be awfully nice if she’d take my lists and do all the grocery shopping for me), nor will she have to take care of any children.

I’ve looked at the map, and I’ve discovered I don’t live too far from Stepford. Maybe I should go on a little kidnapping expedition…