Thursday, February 28, 2013


After I had cleaned the kitchen and thrown away papers, I laid awake all night worrying and waiting for the axe to fall. Growing up, when I moved something around in the piles of papers, or tried to organize I got yelled at. "You ruined my organization! I can't find anything because of you!" they would say. Now I am over 40 and still nervous, waiting for that backlash. In the morning, they saw what I had did in the kitchen and didn't say anything. Later, my father moved from room to room. "I can't find the tax information," he said, "did you do anything with it?"
"No," I said. I thought back nervously, maybe I should have stuck to my original plan and just gone with the flow, and not touched anything. Now I was the main suspect.
He continued to meander around the house looking for his tax information. He consulted with my mother, further throwing suscpicion upon me. I thougth back to my cleaning, and how I had filled a bin with papers, but I knew that I was careful. There were enought papers from 10 and 20 years ago that I didn't have to dump last year's stuff as well.
"It's like someone came in and scooped up all the tax information and took it out," my father exclaimed.
I put on my jogging shoes and went out for a run. It was my second day in  the hoarder's house and I was beginning to lose my cool. I was ready to explode on them, to rip up everything. No. I resolved to keep my cool.
I came back, showered, and got ready. My father was still manicly looking for the tax information.
"You know you do forget things," I said, "you didn't recognize me when I arrived."
"Oh stop," he snapped, "you can't blame everything on my memory. It was here and now it's gone."
"Yeah," my mother added, "nobody asked you to touch our stuff. This is our house, remember."
"What did this stuff look like?" I asked.
My father explained that it was a low box full of envelopes labled 2012 and a large envelope from the accountant. I went away from a moment and came back with just such a box. My father hovered over it.
"This is it! This is the tax information. I was scared that I was in a world of trouble, that it was all gone, a year's worth of collecting. Where was it"
"It was on the floor in the kitchen under the table. Hardly a place for information you hold so dearly. You need to find a more reliable place to keep track of this."

No comments:

Post a Comment