Life is Funny and Sad
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men.
So I found a mouse in my garage. Lord help me…It was 9 a.m., and I just started screaming the F-word over and over again until it ran away from my sight.
It’s a great mantra first thing in the morning, really gets your blood boiling. It was like below zero, and wow, what a way to wake yourself up. I’m sure I woke a neighbor or two up as well.
I have to be honest, the mouse was cute. Don’t get me wrong, I remain appalled that there are mice in my garage. I stand by that.
I mentioned in a previous post that there are animals in our attic. When I told my friend about the mouse in the garage, he was just like, oh they are probably from the attic, like the same family, expanding their real estate options.
We have started hearing animals in the kitchen; I am afraid they may now be in the walls of the house. I live in a zoo. Considering how dramatic my mom and I are, it’s more like a circus. It gives new meaning to the phrase, not my monkey, not my circus. This is, in fact, my monkey, my mouse to be precise, and I’m the ring leader of this circus.
I feel like borrowing my sister’s cat for a weekend would take care of the mice faster than the pest removal company. And it would feel like a more natural order of things.
Because they are also innocent little animals.
I believe all life is sacred, but I also eat meat and will have the pest control people kill the mice. I think you can have contradictory things going on in your head without being an actual complete hypocrite.
Like, there’s this spiritual notion that life is a play, that we are playing. But at the same time, there is serious work to do. Those two contradictory ideals can be true at the same time. Humans are complex, and we should honor our nuanced depth and not always try to make everything black and white.
Life is fun and funny, it is also terrifying and, at times, can be downright horrid. Joy and pain can and do coexist. Like when you have a conversation and explore a topic, sometimes you weave between humor and seriousness.
That is why brilliant comedians can make satire about serious political issues, and suddenly, it is hilarious. Because truth itself is really funny and also horrifying.
I got my sense of humor from my parents. That’s also definitely where I got my heart.
I live with my dramatic mother, and the apple does not fall that far from the tree. We have some very intense conversations, and there are some very hilarious, dramatic occurrences in this household. So much so that me and a friend of mine are going to make a sitcom out of the story of my family.
My mother is a doctor, so she is sometimes obsessed with things being clinically sanitary. One time, I came home to find her scrubbing the garage floor. (This was way before the mice.) I looked closer at what she was using and realized she was cleaning with Shout Laundry Stain Remover. “Mom, why are you using laundry stain remover on the floor?” I asked. “What do you mean? Why? This is the best cleaner in the house, why do you think the toilets are so shiny?” she replied. You can’t make this stuff up.
There are some really good stories from this home, like the fact that my blind father used to light our gas stove with a lighter because the switch was broken, and he refused to pay to fix it.
So every morning, this blind man would set fire to the stove to make chai. What could go wrong? Actually, surprisingly, nothing; he never managed to burn the house down. Just further proof that man was a genius.
My father had a leader dog, who was the sweetest, most precious golden retriever. He started acting really weird. My dad would tell him to go left, and he would go right. He stopped understanding commands and couldn’t lead my blind father properly. We thought he was dumb, like maybe he was an idiot or something. It turns out the leader dog went blind. Again, you can’t make this stuff up. Something with his cataract. I never saw my dad cry as hard as he did when he had to give up that dog.
It’s worth mentioning that, unlike my father, I can see very well; I used to have 20/20 vision. Now I need reading glasses. However, I have found a caveat around wearing them. I have turned my font on my phone and computer on geriatric mode; the letters are so big you can read my text messages from across the room. Everyone who sees this is bothered by this. I have no idea why. I think it’s brilliant, I don’t have to wear glasses. Ever. I hate things on my face.
We are moving out of this house very soon. I will miss a lot of things about it, the animals not being one of them. I think in the attic, at this point, there are dead bodies and animal remains. There are probably squirrels, a few raccoons, and of course, mice. It is most likely a literal shit show. I have no idea what it will cost to clean that up, but no one is going to buy this house if we don’t do it.
What I will miss most about this home is that my father lived here, and recently he passed away.
He designed this house to have solid oak everywhere and wanted the highest quality throughout the house. He was willing to pay for anything high-quality (except fixing the broken stove). It was his idea to buy a 75-inch TV even though he could not see. He always wanted the best for us, not just material things. He paid for us to go to the best schools and took care of us until the very end.
He taught us integrity by example. I want to be like him when I grow up. It makes me happy that I got to spend so much time with such a great man in my life. It makes me sad that I can no longer spend time with him. But I know wherever he is, he’s happy, because that is what he deserves.
When my dad was a kid, he lived in a home that had a cow and some chickens. It wasn’t a farm, and it wasn’t a zoo or a circus, but he had a down-to-earth upbringing. I watched this super-intelligent man go blind with grace and without complaint. He taught me how to laugh at life and showed me when it was appropriate to cry.
He lived with three dramatic, crazy women and managed to enjoy himself along the way. He survived our insanity. I wonder what he is thinking about the insanity of what is going on in America right now. My father was a pretty liberal guy; he once told me he didn’t understand why gay people can’t get married. That’s not bad for a man from the old country. I know he is shaking his head right now. And I know he’s smiling because he knows that we will find our way out of this.
Today I honor him. Tomorrow I will follow in his footsteps and light a small fire wherever there is no light.
nina