Emily’s Musings

I consider myself to be a very organized, clean, structured person. I enjoy cooking, keeping a very tidy household, and managing my family’s affairs. I have been known to vacuum or sweep my house (which is all tile in the Caribbean) three to four times a day. I make the beds everyday, almost the instant I roll out. I make all meals from scratch, including pancake mix. Cakes and icing are obviously from scratch too, why eat a cake from a mix? Who eats icing from a store bought jar? I don’t have a dishwasher (I am the dishwasher) and I wash all my dishes by hand. I feel like I know all my dishes and silverware intimately. I take my dogs out three times a day, make three meals a day, wash clothes and hang them to dry on the clothing line, and sweep off the patio. I really hate to see random dirt and standing water. I know, I can be a little obsessed.

What is wrong with this picture? Nothing. That is “Saba Emily” who is a little OCD. “Visiting Family and Friends Emily” is a little different. My room is a disaster. It looks like it has “thrown up”. If I make my bed, it is usually right before I go to bed, just to straighten out the sheets. I haven’t made one meal for my parents (well, I did make a chocolate cake from scratch if that counts), and my mom is doing my laundry. I half loaded the dishwasher once. I have driven my mom’s Toyota Highlander all over Utah Valley, and not once have I put gas in it or cleaned it out. I hate to admit this, but I have recidivated. This is exactly how I behaved when I lived at home. I moved out when I was 19, so I have obviously grown up a bit and taken responsibility for myself. Why is it that when you go home, you just let your parents take care of you? Regardless of how old you are, or how old they are? I am embarrassed. I only act this way at home. When I visit other places, I am cleaning up after myself all day long. I cook, (just ask Ben and Ang. They scored two homemade meals out of me on Sunday) clean, wash, and babysit. You name it!

I am turning a new leaf. Tomorrow is a new day. I will no longer live as a spoiled brat under my parents roof.

Over the past three weeks, Hannah and I have enjoyed living the glamorous “gypsi” life. While most of our time has been spent at my parents house in Orem, Utah, we have spent time (you know, like slept over at other places other than the mainstay) at a few other places. I am beginning to think that I have left a “little piece of Emily and Hannah” scattered all along the way. This has in now way been intentional; not like our friends “Hansel and Gretel” who scattered crumbs. I am slowly but surely realizing that I am missing a few things. Here is the problem; where are the missing items? They could be on Sint Maarten (where we HAD to stay overnight at a hotel), lost in Puerto Rico, at my sisters house in Cali, at my brother Ben’s Mansion (seriously. I will post pics soon), at my in-law’s house, or are they just lost in my room which is so messy that it looks like it has “thrown up”? Can you see that maybe I left my brain somewhere along the way?

If you like something, always buy two or more. I live by this motto. I fell in love with a shirt while shopping in California. When you find a shirt with the proper fit, style and price, like I did, you should but three. That is what I did. However, I can only find two or the three shirts I purchased. I am beginning to think that I hallucinated buying three shirts, and I have almost convinced myself that I must be “up in the night”. However, my “Marathon Shopper Sister” Jenn, specifically “GASPED!” when I pulled three exact shirts (all different colors) from the rack. The moment my favorite sister “GASPED!” when I purchased three identical shirts, was a pivotal moment for me. At that very moment, I realized that maybe I wasn’t normal. Maybe normal people don’t buy in quantities. For this very reason, I know I bought THREE shirts.

I have retraced my steps. I searched “The Mansion” high and low, ripped my luggage apart, accused the washer of eating it, and scoured my in-law’s house. I asked my mother-in-law if she had seen it. Because she is a mom, I really had high hopes that she was keeping track of all my stuff. Apparently, she is not my keeper. She had no idea. Aren’t moms, supposed to keep track of that kind of stuff? Not new moms like me, but real moms who have been moms for a really, really, long time?

The hunt for the White and Sapphire Blue Johnny Color Polo is still on. I’m sure it is in the same place I left my brain. If you find either one, let me know.