You dare call this HOUSE a HOME?

This is a HOME

I am not one for the whole modern look they have going on now with “home” decor; I just can’t get into it. I mean, I suppose it may come off rather appealing, but it’s intimidating at the same time. It is somewhat like the hot guy, or hot chick; The hot chick with the nice rack, bleached blond hair, the trendy Louis Vuitton purse (of the moment), the Christian Louboutin shoes, etc.. Now, there is definitely something there. There is definitely an immediate attraction followed by an intriguing moment, that is nonetheless falsely displayed or under the guise of anything containing a semblance of vitality or substance.

I like the idea of a house being a place I call my”home”. I want to be able to eat on the couch and not having to worry about spilling a glass of wine or food that will stain my bright white carpet fixture, because it is so expensive and so chic and so “modern”. Now, let me tell you something. Unless it’s some ancient Persian carpet from the 16th century, I don’t give a fuck about staining a damn carpet. I’ll be damned if I am living in a house if I cannot relax, and worry if I spill or break shit.

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That is just simply not a home. What that is, is the beginning of a relationship that is wonderfully exciting, yet terribly miserable drenched in neuroticism at the same time. It’s that excitement you feel when you first “make love”, then realize you have to sleep next to this person all throughout the night, and wake up with him in the morning when he offers to make you breakfast,(and it is the one time you actually do stay and not leave at the break of dawn because you actually like this one), all while holding in a tremendous profound amount of gas, or an actual load of shit…Now we all know the longer you hold in gas that it eventually causes you to become constipated. That is the worst experience. I have had many of those experiences, throughout my youthful days that were driven by reckless insecurity, naivety, and everything else in it’s goodness, that is comprised of being a 20 year old girl. Heh..

I want my kitchen accessories out in the open, along with my bowl of fruit and my spice rack. I want everything easily accessible, no worries, or hassle. It’s like after you get passed the initial dating phase. The phase where the guy can now call you to “have dinner” at the last minute after work, but it has been at least a year into the relationship where it would not be considered a booty call. It is the time when there is no bullshit, everything is out in the open. Now when he farts you laugh, and when you are being a selfish bitch he actually can call you out on it and not walk on eggshells…You are free to be who you are and together you’ve balanced the scales.

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I want a house that I can truly call a home. I want to be able to invite my parents and family over for dinner or for the holidays with my future husband. It looks nice from the outside, but you can’t really get comfortable, and everything feels awkward, and nothing really seems in it’s place. This chic ultra modern house is like the guy you are embarrassed to have your friends and family meet, but he is hot or exciting for the moment, so he is a good thrill for a few. But he can’t actually talk politics with your Dad or have anything to talk about with your mother aside from blurting out-  I see where she gets those nice tits from! Or the girl who is a total whore who you make no mention of to anyone other than your guy friends who will most likely have or have already had her,  and lie to her about having a Facebook so that she can’t make the “connection” or claim you, or even imply you are dating with any exclusivity attached by a photo or post. You understand where I am going with this? I want a house that my parents can find pictures, paintings, doors and windows that they can operate, and actually find their way to the bathroom and can identify the actual fucking sink along with every other object in it. Along with a nice conventional oven. Holy shit, I was at a friends house the other day, and I swear to you, I could not figure out how to flush the toilet or what part of the fucking hell house from the future was the sink! As years go by the most simple things are transformed into mind bludgeoning tasks! My apologies for the rant…My apologies with such great blessed insincerity. Fuck you – I am not sorry. Ah – now brooding.

 

I just want to be me. I want to be comfortable in my house. I want a home. I don’t want to worry about tiny speckles of blood dripping from my leg onto the floor after I pull out my tampon then proceeding to jump into the shower. It is definitely mortifying! But, when you are with someone you truly love and are spending the rest of your life with, it doesn’t matter as much, because you have already stained the sofa and the bed weeks or months after you moved into your new house that has now become your home.

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8 thoughts on “You dare call this HOUSE a HOME?

  1. i have left my tear drops on your floor, and i believe i might have spilled some of my tea.. so why not? haha miss you and k!

  2. Sam! So often I enjoy making some smart ass comment to your posts. I just can’t do it for this one. I agree completely. Very well said. Time for a new post so I can swear already!

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