This afternoon, I landed at Pottery Barn in search of master bedroom curtains. I wondered aimlessly around the store, becoming more and more apparent of my deep inadequacies in all things home decor. I meandered over to the curtains and fingered fabric panels. Twill or sailcloth, I pondered, feeling like the weight of my decision held as much significance as naming a child.
In the midst of my confusion, a young twenty-something salesclerk strolled over and offered her advice. I explained my desire to buy master curtains.
She chirped, "Oh, did you just move in to a new home?"
"No," I replied. "Actually, we've been there for six year."
She looked perplexed.
I started to explain my answer, but stopped. I suspected the young salesclerk wasn't a mom. She didn't understand yet just where the money for master bedroom curtains can go when four young children roam the house. If I had continued my answer, I would have explained the money for curtains was used for:
-habitual carpet cleaning to mop up all the remnants of four young boys,
-exorbitant amounts of gasoline used to shuttle four kids to school and a myriad of other activities,
-continuous replacement costs of worn out shoes, sweat pants, jeans, sports equipment, coats, and socks,
-massive amounts of food to fill four (seemingly) little tummies,
-library fees for overdue books,
-xray costs and dental charges,
-repair fees for battered walls, well-loved electronics, and defaced home decor,
-Christmas gifts, birthday parties, and Easter baskets,
-plumbing charges to fix a toilet stuffed with matchbox cars and car repairs when the DVD player gets doused with juice,
-private school tuition and preschool fees....
and on and on.
I'm imaging if I unloaded this list, I'd spook the salesclerk. So for now, I'll merely say curtains were not a priority. I'm guessing someday she'll understand.