Castles in the Air

I admire beautiful houses.

I love their perfect glossy floors. I cherish their pristine furniture. I revel in the elegance of clean counters and tables and everything tucked away where it belongs. I deeply envy their elegant accessories artfully arranged on gleaming surfaces. Truly, I find an almost zen state in beautiful homes.

And then I return to Hooligan House.

And, well, there's water all over the kitchen floor where Ginny and D'Art walked away from the bowl with mouths still full of water. There's a jumble of junk mail on the baker's rack, a stack of catalogs and half-read books on the end table. My old throw is carelessly slung over the arm of the couch--not at all an artful drape. And you can tell it's got a picture woven into it, but, well, there's no telling what it is. Er, is that my throw pillow in the floor? Oops. The upper cushions of the couch are all squished from the cats and Pickles laying on them. And let's not forget...there's hair EVERYWHERE. I haven't vacuumed in three or four days--oops--and there are hairballs in the floor and hair all over my couches. My few pretty things are carefully stuck on upper shelves where a stray tail won't knock them over...I try to find ledges too narrow to attract the cats. Smudges abound.

And I am welcomed not by a gracious hostess, but by a thundering herd of DOG. Bouncing, panting, yipping, rumbling, happy happy dogs. Somebody's undoubtedly got a wet mouth, and I'm being sniffed head to toe. Within seconds, I am returned to my natural state--covered in hair and nose smudges. At least the cats don't rush me--they're too comfortable, ensconced as they are on my clean laundry or my bed pillows.

And I know that the very idea of me living in one of those beautiful homes I admire is a castle in the air--beautiful, yes, but unattainable.

This place, though, my Hooligan House, suits me fine. It's broken in and lived in, and yeah, it's never perfect, ever. But coming home is like slipping into an old sweatshirt. And I guess when it comes down to it, I'd rather be comfortable than beautiful. Beautiful's an awful lot of work.

And as much as I have always loved beautiful things, I haven't found a vase or sculpture yet more beautiful to me than the faces of my dogs. Elegant in proportion, beautiful in design, and never the same twice.

Besides, who wants a castle in the air anyway? There's no yard for the dogs to run in. ^-^