Why is it that I have such a hard time getting going on doing chores?
It didn't used to be this way. I remember that shopping of any sort was the reward and I would only allow myself to go shopping if every speck of housework was done. Now, I use shopping as the excuse for why the housework didn't get done.
Let's get real. Although I am very committed to my job search it doesn't take all day. There is no reason this house shouldn't sparkle and shine. Additionally, it's good for the chi of the house to be clean, so it's in my interest to do the housework.
I decided that Feng Shui would be the answer to jogging loose a job, I had plans to get red ribbon to tie on the phone and computer lines. I was going to jazz up the dining room where the money corner of our house it. I was going to clean out the Christmas stuff (presents we don't want) from the guest room, where the Career section of the house is. I was going to sort out James's room, where the Helpful People part of the house is. Put new names in the pot and all of that.
I planned to update my Vision Board with more job oriented items.
And yet, I invent excuses and other time wasters to have a reason not to clean. Today I went grocery shopping and plant shopping. Yesterday I did laundry. Actually I folded laundry, James worked the machines. See? Dare I say that I'm lazy?
I'll admit that I'm depressed about being cooped up in the house. You know it's bad when you've seen all the Law and Order repeats. Twice.
It's not like I don't have things to do, I totally do!
I did plant some red flowers by the door, bought a bamboo plant for the desk and some purple flowers for the dining room.
I guess I'll take it in small steps.
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I'm really jealous that you've seen all the Law & Order episodes. I only saw my first Michael Moriarity ADA episode last week.
Now you get to hear my Feng Shui speech:
I first heard of Feng Shui (Wind/Water) back maybe in the late '80s. My father was working as an interpreter in the New York City courts: he knew Cantonese (native dialect) Mandarin (I figure with a hick accent) and Hakka. He also helped recent immigrants avoid the so-called "domitories" in Chinatown—super-cramped, ridiculously expensive, and last but not least illegal communal living spaces usually in basements. Instead, he steered these people into getting section Eight housing vouchers and introducing them to people-usually in Canarsie, IIRC—with apartments in private homes who wouldn't ordinarily accept section eight, but seeing as these were nice clean Chinese people, and that Mr. Leung had helped Ms. DiThomasini down the block rent her downstairs apartment to another nice clean young Chinese couple....
Anyway, it was after taking one such young couple to see an apartment that he was back home, watching the TeeVee with a particularly grouchy expression on his face.
"What's up, Dad?" I asked.
"Oh, I have a bad day," he sighed. "Stupid peasants—I get them section eight, take them to nice place in Queens, good rent! And they don't want to live there because of Feng Shui."
"Why don't they want to live there?" I asked. I recognized Feng Shui as wind/water, but had no idea what he was talking about.
"FENG SHUI!" he exploded. "You not know what that is? Stupid peasant superstition! They say it is bad the house has a tree branch over the front walk! Feng Shui!" he spat and returned to watching TeeVee. He was definitely in one of those moods, so I decided it was better not even to try to talk to him.
After that—not unlike Oliver Sacks suddenly noticing Tourette's patients all over the place once he learned about the condition—I began to notice Chinese co-workers complaining about having to have their dwellings get the Feng Shui treatment to appease older relations. This involved paying a large cash sum to some ancient toothless tai-tai who counted as a fortune-teller or something like it to come into your house and reorganize everything to minimize aesthetic appeal and maximize inconvience. One recently married young man bemoaned the fortune-teller's edict that the living room coffee table be placed in the middle of the hallwall to prevent demons from running up and down the hall. An older woman who took in her mother after the death of her father had the tai-tai come in to appease her frightened mom. The woman ordered the fish tank—a large decorative piece that previously graced the living room—dead center in the bathroom.
If you have visions of a Feng-Shui'd dwelling that are beautiful and serene, with open comfortable spaces, forget it. OK, maybe some Feng Shui books for white people will tell you that, but I'm here to tell that's Bauhaus/Le Courbusier design re-branded as Chinese. Real Feng Shui is all about clutter, weird places for things, and clear vinyl covers on your upholstered furniture. Lots of clear vinyl covers.
Clean and reorganize your house the way you like it, and leave Feng Shui to the unlucky children of old fashioned Chinese parents.
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