Christian housewives in bondage
Well thank God that's finally over. I never thought I'd be so glad to see the eight month old copies of Us Weekly and Family Circle here behind the register at Conchita's Unisex Beauty Palace, but they were like old friends welcoming me: "Hi, Britney. Hi, Angelina," I could feel myself saying. Now that I'm back at work, I can tend to all the moving-related duties that the very act of moving kept me from accomplishing. I've finally been able to contact my creditors and their collection agencies with my new phone number (it's easier than having them call you at work), and I went through four days worth of mail. I also filled out my absentee ballot for Governor Arnold's special election. Don't think I'm going soft on you people, but I've decided to buck the party line and vote no on all the propositions. My line of thought is that the Rapture will come far sooner if teens don't have to wait 48 hours for their abortions and California's utilties aren't subjected to additional regulatory oversight.
I hope the hectic schedule for past few days is on account of the move and not a taste of what being a devoted bride and housewife of Christ has in store for me. Is this what I've been groomed to want since girlhood? Another few days of this will turn me into a bra-burner for sure. I could give you a laundry list of all my chores, because since the last time you heard from me I've turned into one of those people whose life is so complicated I need to keep lists, but that would bore you silly. On second thought, fuck you all, welcome to Sister Nancy Beth's world:
A. Take recyclables to dumpters at old place; I filled the ones at my new address.
B. Get misc. curling irons & styling products from old place
C. Bundle up items from final wardrobe purge to take to Goodwill.
D. Load Praisemobile (3 trips up & down the steps)
E. Sell unwanted cds at Amoeba (more about this later).
F. Drop off Goodwill items.
G. Hang Franklin Mint collectors plates on walls.
H. Trim the Christcat's nails (at the special request of Jesus).
I. Do six loads of laundry at the laundromat.
J. Put laundry away at home before Jesus' shirts wrinkle.
K. Walk to Whole Foods for groceries for dinner.
L. Cook dinner.
M. Wash dishes.
N. Sweep and mop bathroom and kitchen floors.
O. Scour tub.
Conspicuously absent from this list, you might have noticed, are any references to Mommy's mid-day valium and vodka tonic.
What's especially horrible is that this had been the fourth day in a row like this. I worked from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. Friday, arguably the hottest day of the year, packing stuff up and taking it to Jesus'. Saturday we started at 7 in the morning. I have no idea what time we finished, because at a certain point I took my watch off; keeping track of how long I had been at it was too discouraging. The only bright point Saturday was when Jesus revealed a bit of His divinity by speculating about some sort of Trinity maneuver with Victor, the cuter of the two movers.
***
Back in my days of selfish hedonism, I amassed quite a collection of cds & lps. Today my tastes lean towards wholesome Christian pop and pre-whoredom Amy Grant. But after a few puffs of ceremonial frankincense, there's nothing like some glorious, earth-shaking sound, so I'll give glorifying God a momentary rest and dip into my trove of Satan's melodies. While Jesus & I are of one mind on many things, music isn't really among them. One of the many chores for Saturday was incorporating His cds into my collection, in effect violating its pristine, Nancy Beth-esque beauty. If anything proved my committment to Jesus, this was it. Sometimes it was fun to see where things would end up, like when Abba got filed between A Certain Ration and Able Tasmans. Esquivel found a happy home nestled among Espers and Etant Donnes. It wasn't always so serendipitous, however, and the cruelest twist of fate was when the Vengaboys ended up between the Velvet Underground and the Verlaines. Sorry, guys.
My approach to cd organization has changed with the size of my collection. I presently keep the stuff with goofy packaging in shoeboxes and the ones in standard jewel cases on media shelving. Those shelves accomodate 1200 cds. With Jesus's additions, we experienced the Feast of Maximal Capacity (I've asked the Vatican for a novena), so a thinning of the herd was clearly in order. The primary criteria for this purge was, "Am I ever going to want to listen to this again?" So while I may like Swans and Sonic Youth, I don't necessarily like Swans & Sonic Youth-related side projects: so long, Bewitched, Of Cabbages and Kings, Ritual Tension, and Two Dollar Guitar. I also figured this was the time to get rid of all those horrifically tedious Knitting Factory cds, since I came to the realization that improvised music should only be experienced live. Also fair game for selling back were all the cds that I bought with the hope that someday, someone attending one of those many parties I can never manage to throw would be impressed by my having... I can't even remember what I held on to for this reason, that's how little it stuck in my mind. The extra space is great, and that $325 can go to great use, like buying Buff Puffs for the poor.
I hope the hectic schedule for past few days is on account of the move and not a taste of what being a devoted bride and housewife of Christ has in store for me. Is this what I've been groomed to want since girlhood? Another few days of this will turn me into a bra-burner for sure. I could give you a laundry list of all my chores, because since the last time you heard from me I've turned into one of those people whose life is so complicated I need to keep lists, but that would bore you silly. On second thought, fuck you all, welcome to Sister Nancy Beth's world:
A. Take recyclables to dumpters at old place; I filled the ones at my new address.
B. Get misc. curling irons & styling products from old place
C. Bundle up items from final wardrobe purge to take to Goodwill.
D. Load Praisemobile (3 trips up & down the steps)
E. Sell unwanted cds at Amoeba (more about this later).
F. Drop off Goodwill items.
G. Hang Franklin Mint collectors plates on walls.
H. Trim the Christcat's nails (at the special request of Jesus).
I. Do six loads of laundry at the laundromat.
J. Put laundry away at home before Jesus' shirts wrinkle.
K. Walk to Whole Foods for groceries for dinner.
L. Cook dinner.
M. Wash dishes.
N. Sweep and mop bathroom and kitchen floors.
O. Scour tub.
Conspicuously absent from this list, you might have noticed, are any references to Mommy's mid-day valium and vodka tonic.
What's especially horrible is that this had been the fourth day in a row like this. I worked from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. Friday, arguably the hottest day of the year, packing stuff up and taking it to Jesus'. Saturday we started at 7 in the morning. I have no idea what time we finished, because at a certain point I took my watch off; keeping track of how long I had been at it was too discouraging. The only bright point Saturday was when Jesus revealed a bit of His divinity by speculating about some sort of Trinity maneuver with Victor, the cuter of the two movers.
***
Back in my days of selfish hedonism, I amassed quite a collection of cds & lps. Today my tastes lean towards wholesome Christian pop and pre-whoredom Amy Grant. But after a few puffs of ceremonial frankincense, there's nothing like some glorious, earth-shaking sound, so I'll give glorifying God a momentary rest and dip into my trove of Satan's melodies. While Jesus & I are of one mind on many things, music isn't really among them. One of the many chores for Saturday was incorporating His cds into my collection, in effect violating its pristine, Nancy Beth-esque beauty. If anything proved my committment to Jesus, this was it. Sometimes it was fun to see where things would end up, like when Abba got filed between A Certain Ration and Able Tasmans. Esquivel found a happy home nestled among Espers and Etant Donnes. It wasn't always so serendipitous, however, and the cruelest twist of fate was when the Vengaboys ended up between the Velvet Underground and the Verlaines. Sorry, guys.
My approach to cd organization has changed with the size of my collection. I presently keep the stuff with goofy packaging in shoeboxes and the ones in standard jewel cases on media shelving. Those shelves accomodate 1200 cds. With Jesus's additions, we experienced the Feast of Maximal Capacity (I've asked the Vatican for a novena), so a thinning of the herd was clearly in order. The primary criteria for this purge was, "Am I ever going to want to listen to this again?" So while I may like Swans and Sonic Youth, I don't necessarily like Swans & Sonic Youth-related side projects: so long, Bewitched, Of Cabbages and Kings, Ritual Tension, and Two Dollar Guitar. I also figured this was the time to get rid of all those horrifically tedious Knitting Factory cds, since I came to the realization that improvised music should only be experienced live. Also fair game for selling back were all the cds that I bought with the hope that someday, someone attending one of those many parties I can never manage to throw would be impressed by my having... I can't even remember what I held on to for this reason, that's how little it stuck in my mind. The extra space is great, and that $325 can go to great use, like buying Buff Puffs for the poor.
posted by Sister Nancy Beth Eczema @ 4:21 PM
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