Friday, May 03, 2013

Residue

I can't get this darn cocaine residue out of the carpet.  I'm just pushing the vacuum back and forth over it but nothing's coming up.  I mean, I already got all the big piles and the stuff that was right on top, of course.  That was easy.  But now there's just some powder left that's way deep down there, I guess.  It's not the greatest vac in the world, but it's sucking other things up.  I went outside just a little while ago to get some soil and I stomped that into the rug, just to see if it was the vac's fault, but it got all the soil, or anyway, most of it -- it got more of the soil than it's gotten of the cocaine.  The cocaine is finer, I guess, which means it gets really embedded easier.  At one point I thought I'd gotten it all but I wasn't wearing my glasses.

I tried spraying it with water.  I used this little mister bottle we have, I use it on my hair sometimes and to keep the cats off the counters.  It made the cocaine a little easier to see, but it still didn't seem to be lifting off the rug.  I got one of the cat brushes and tried to use it on the carpet, to bring the cocaine back up higher so the vacuum could get it.  I thought this was pretty clever but it didn't work.  The thing about it is we have these bright blue carpets.  I never liked them.  I wanted a nice ivory or something like that.  Jon said, "darker is better, you won't be able to see the stains."  I said, well, what about if someone starts throwing cocaine around the room?  He just rolled his eyes.  And where does he run off to when the cleaning has to get done?

I was on my hands and knees, rubbing at it with a paper towel.  That didn't work though, just left a lot of those gross little paper towel bits mashed up in the rug.  Those are enough of a headache to clean up on their own.  The kids get home at 3:30 and they'll be asking questions.  Jon gets home usually around 7 and if he sees it he'll just run me down, say, "can't you keep this house clean?"  Never mind what the bathroom sink looks like after he's done with it, with little hairs and globs of toothpaste everywhere, and when he snorts a line off the toilet seat he always leaves it gritty and uncomfortable for when you have to sit down and do your business.

Jon is already mad at me because I'd volunteered to have last night's deacons meeting at our house.  Well, the youth group was meeting in the church that night, so we'd either have to have it at somebody's house or cancel it.  What was I going to do?  Let them cancel the whole deacons meeting?  Besides, we have fun together.  Jon came in halfway through and just glared at us and grunted "hi" and went upstairs.  The meeting was over in an hour anyway, Jon didn't have to let it get to him if he didn't secretly enjoy being a bother.  Sandy and Vita and Rick hung around for a little while afterwards and we traded gossip and talked about the kids and it was so nice.  These people are my friends, we have a great time together.  That's how the cocaine got on the carpets in the first place.

I was just taking a break from the cocaine a little while ago, trying to come at it from a different angle, and I noticed a little hairline crack in the window, where Rick had slammed Vita's head into the glass a couple times.  I just about gave up right then!  Jon's going to see that, no doubt about it!  I'll just have to come clean about that one, I guess.  I put some Scotch tape over it so we'll be able to tell if it starts getting bigger.

It wasn't always this way.  We were in love once.  He declared his love in a balloon, floating over a large, yellow field.  The line for the balloons was at least an hour, but we waited.  We got to the top and he promised me my heart was his alone, promised he'd fill my discontents and lacks with love, promised his infidelities would be few and only when something really great fell right into his lap (he'd never be the "pursuer," in other words).  I threw myself into his arms -- but anyone could have said those things to me and I'd have fallen in love.  I've talked about these things with the deacons and they've counseled me that the feeling must still be there, in some lesser, degraded form, sure, but it will always be there, it can't be scrubbed away -- that's what they say.  I told them I'm not so sure.  I told them Jon holds me in contempt, because I wouldn't have loved him if he hadn't said those things on the balloon.  Sandy said, "that reminds me!" and pulled out the baggie of cocaine and waved it around between her thumb and one finger.  They let me take the first bump.  I flushed Jon from my mind with sharp, hot blood.

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