The last couple of days I've driven out to Son1's apartment to help him pack. At the end of the month, he's moving in with Dorcas. You remember that she owns her own condominium, and this way (once he is no longer paying his own rent) Son1 will be able to pay Wife's rent. Somehow it all makes sense.
Of course Wife moved out a couple of months ago, and took as much stuff as could fit in her new place. But that left huge piles of hoarded crap behind, for Son1 to deal with.
Honestly we didn't get that much done. It was unseasonably hot, and we couldn't muster much motivation. I did whatever he asked me to do, but I let him organize the work. And he wasn't very motivated, either. Dealing with Wife's stuff can have that effect.
At one point, during a break in the action, I asked him, "What do you suppose would happen if your mom were deprived of all her possessions at once, at a blow—as if she had just barely escaped from fire or flood or a barbarian invasion? Would she finally develop a new self-concept, one that wasn't so focused on owning things? Would that liberate her from all her stuff?" (This is a question that D and I discussed back and forth, during and after the monstrous housecleaning effort I've recorded as "Second date," which stretches from here to here.)
Son1 didn't even have to contemplate. Right away, he answered clearly, "No, she'd just lie about it—the way she lies about her academic achievements and the career she (thinks she) was 'deprived of' by the 'evil machinations' of the 'enemies' in her department."
Open and shut.
Did I ever tell you the full story of how Wife got ejected from graduate school? I feel like I've hinted around the edges but no more. Maybe sometime soon I can walk you through it.
No comments:
Post a Comment