Don't look at me like that. I know. It's been two days, and you're angry. Help me, you're thinking, get me out of the jumbled, wrinkly messy situation in these God-awful, loud crinkling blue Ikea bags. Fold me. Crease me. Put me away in the correct locations so I can finally get some peace.
I never set out to hurt you, clean laundry. I didn't haul you home from the laundromat Sunday night with the intention of ignoring you. But soon after your reentry into my apartment, I realized that life had other plans for me, as it so often does. Life had other plans for me in general, because suddenly, all four seasons of Mad Men were available on Netflix Instant.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Hear that? That's all the productivity I had planned for this week. That's all the unit planning, mentor text-reading, running, boxing, tanning, cooking, stretching, cleaning, and doctor's appointment-scheduling I wanted to do this week exploding into the nothingness that awaits once a show like Mad Men becomes instantly available via the internet.
I think I've stayed away from Mad Men this long in a misguided attempt to rebel against my parents. My parents both have doctorates in marketing. My mother used to be a professor. My father IS a professor (GO TO BU. GET YOUR MBA. LET ME COME WITH YOU TO MY DAD'S CLASS). Growing up in my house, we were only allowed to go to the bathroom during the Superbowl, because it was unheard of to miss the commercials. No "goo goo gaa gaa," in our house. It was more like, "Wazababyyy... can you say 'marketing ploy?'"
I spent most of my life trying to run in the opposite direction from my parents. It began when I realized that, despite both being "Dr. Wyner," neither of them owned a stethoscope. I'd like to think that at the ripe old age of 3, I said to myself, "What's the furthest thing from being a doctor of marketing... A BALLERINA! I'LL DO THAT!" when in reality I probably began dancing because I loved attention and I loved pink.
I love my parents dearly, I do. They always encouraged me to find the right path for myself, and they never told me to follow in their footsteps. I know that I 100% invented the pressure I felt to be like them, but that doesn't change the fact that at the time, it felt real. When both of your parents are marketing geniuses, the LAST thing you want to do is go to a frat party and be noticed because the guy with the washboard abs just wrote a paper citing an article your father published in the Harvard Business Review. You want to be noticed because you're wearing a 40 dollar push-up bra that you purchased just for this fantastically low-cut shirt. Terrible return on investment, Victoria's Secret.
I AM SO FUNNY. Daddy, if you happen upon this blog post, I hope you're laughing, because you're the only one who will find that last sentence funny. Anyone else, ask me if you want to understand the joke.
I tried to watch Mad Men once before. The urge struck me on a rainy Sunday afternoon when I should've been planning lessons. Actually, I have no idea when it happened, but given my schedule for the past three years, it's a pretty safe bet. I couldn't get through the first episode I was so bored. I could see all the nuances, but they stuck out like those rods you buy to support flowers in the garden (the cheap ones, not the nice ones my mother buys, those don't stick out). It was as if big purple letters floated across the screen...
...NEW GUY TRIES TOO HARD...
...NEW GIRL WISELY PLAYS DUMB, DOESN'T SHOW HER HAND...
...IT'S THE 60S, SO THIS CHARACTER WILL STAY IN THE CLOSET UNTIL SWEEPS 6 SEASONS FROM NOW...
...LOOK AT OUR SUPER AUTHENTIC VODKA CONTAINERS! LOOK AT ALL OUR CAREFUL RESEARCH...
I wasn't ready yet. It's kind of like yoga. I tried it at age 18 and fell asleep I was so bored. Now I'm obsessed, because I'm old, jaded, stressed, anxious, overworked, underpaid, and exhausted and yoga makes it all better.
So laundry, I'm pretty sure you're staying put. I know my drawers are calling out to you in their glorious near-empty state, but you will have to wait, because right now, I have a fever, and the only prescription is :
sexism
racism
materialism
adultery
lying
media manipulation
double entendres
vodka
smoke
(in other words... MAD MEN)
Don't hate me. I'll fold you tomorrow.
Maybe.
Probably.
Okay, probably not.
XOXO-Leah
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