Neat Freak, Part 3

The final chapter in the short story, "Neat Freak." I hope you've enjoyed it! Happy Hallowe'en!
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She knew where Todd had gotten the idea to drink from the container. Leave it to Jeremy to undermine her and justify his nasty habits.

Todd screwed the cap back on the milk and stuck it back in the fridge, in the wrong place.

Jamie came to stand next to her dad, a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

I can’t believe this, Peggy thought, just look at her face. She knows it’s dirty. She’s flaunting it in front of me because she knows her dad is here to protect her.

She put the phone back to her ear.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Perhaps you should—correct—the problem, Margaret,” suggested the neighbor. “Perhaps you’ve been too lenient with your family. When you’re done, you can go and feed the roses.”

“You’re right of course,” she answered pleasantly. Jeremy was watching her, still waiting for an answer about his dinner. She smiled at him, more a slight baring of her teeth than an expression of affection.

“Thank you for calling. I really needed to hear your voice,” she said warmly, her eyes pinned to her husband.

“My pleasure, my dear.” She hung up. Peggy gently put the phone back on the hook and turned to her family.

“Why don’t you go in the living room and watch TV, kids, and I’ll start dinner.

The kids went to the living room. She could hear the noise of cartoons blaring. Her headache’s pounding twisted up a painful notch.

Jeremy went back to the bar for a refill of scotch, leaving a condensation ring on her counter.

She stared at it. The pounding came harder. Her eyes were throbbing in time with the pounding.

She turned to the freezer, grabbed a package of frozen salmon he had caught that summer (leaving the tiny remainders of the entrails in her sink, she remembered). There were several salmon in the package. She weighed it in her hand and glared at the back of his head as he poured his scotch, leaving another condensation ring on her clean bar.

Yes. Salmon would do nicely for the whole family.

That evening, the neighbors didn’t wonder at the sound of the chipper in Peg’s beautiful yard, although they did shake their heads a little at the sound. She often worked in the yard after dinner. One or two wondered if she would ever lighten up and enjoy life a little, rather than working in her house all the time.

Later that evening, after the neighbors had gone to bed, the worms feasted.

Peg’s house was finally clean.


One Year Later

Jenny stood alone in the back yard, gazing at the wilting roses and listening to the drone of the real estate agent’s voice drifting through the window as she tried to gloss over the unfortunate incident which had happened here months ago. This was a state that enforced the full disclosure laws, and the woman, by golly, was going to spin it into a sale if she could.

“Well, she was unstable, Mr. Quint,” she explained to Jenny’s husband.

“Those roses used to be lovely,” a voice commented, cutting through the other woman’s grating patter. Jenny thought the voice was coming from behind the fence to her right. She glanced over, trying to see between the slats, but couldn’t catch a glimpse of whomever was talking to her.

“I’m sure they haven’t been fed in at least a year, since the house was last occupied,” the neighbor (she was sure it was a neighbor) continued.

Jenny shook her head sadly. “What a shame. They could be so beautiful!”

“Well, dear, they will when you move in and feed them what they need to grow and be beautiful again.” 

And just like that, Jennifer decided she would convince David to buy the house.

Neat Freak, Part 2

Part two.  If you're just tuning in to the story, go back to yesterday's entry to catch up! And again, feel free to observe copyright laws. Share the link to my blog if you enjoy the story!

Neat Freak, Part 2

Her mouth twisted downwards at the thought of diseases. One of the idiot neighbors once suggested she and Jeremy get a dog for the kids. She launched into a vehement lecture on what foul, dirty creatures they were, how they carried all manner of disease. She was so vehement, in fact, that the neighbor looked horrified. Peggy was sure it was because now he knew that the dog in his own home was a hazard, a bio-hazard, and he would certainly have to get rid of it, if not put it down for good. After all, the ignorant ass had children of his own. It was his duty as a father to protect them from infection!

After she scrubbed the entire counter (and the oven, the floor, the refrigerator and the kitchen table, too, for obvious reasons), she was dripping with the sweat of her efforts. With a satisfied sigh, she stepped into the living room. She stopped short and nearly shrieked with anger.

There were footprints on her white carpet.

Mind you, the footprints weren’t black with dirt, but the pristine pattern left by her vacuum cleaner was ruined. She conscientiously vacuumed every day (sometimes twice) to eradicate dust mites, knowing the tiny aliens were nothing but trouble. Snarling to herself, she stormed to the utility closet and brought out the vacuum. It was one of these cyclone models, with the clear bin so you didn’t have to touch the dirt. She would dump the dirt in the compost pile afterward, thereby making the dirt useful to her precious roses. As she vacuumed, frantic with the need to erase all traces of her family from the room, she made little noises of anger and frustration. Didn’t they understand how much effort it took to clean up after them? Didn’t they appreciate all her hard work?

She stopped, the metallic whine of the vacuum’s motor a comforting drone of cleanliness waiting to happen. No. It was obvious they didn’t, the ungrateful pigs. They were slobs, all of them, just living to make work for her so she couldn’t spend time with her roses. And Jeremy, husband and ringleader, mocking her to the children behind her back. She just knew he did.

She resumed her frantic vacuuming, anger making each pass more energetic.

After she had dumped the clear plastic bin into her compost pile several times (she had vacuumed the entire 2,550 square foot house just for good measure), as well as dumping out the kitchen waste into the vermicompost bins for her darling worms (so tidy, so efficient at cleaning up that nasty waste), she stole a quick moment with her roses. The sweat on her body cooled in the gentle breeze.

A tender smile spread across her face as she took in their sweet, heady scent, reminding her of her mother’s perfume. Her mother was neat and tidy, too. She was married to a military man who demanded his house be kept as neat as a military barracks, and by God, Mother did.

It had taken Peggy years to understand what an ungrateful little beast she had been growing up, leaving messes for her poor mother to clean. In fact, she couldn’t remember being so passionate about housework until she moved into this house, and had to manage her own two ungrateful little beasts.

She caressed a velvet rose petal. The children were clearly hard cases, and Jeremy was too easy on them. She must find a way to make them see the light. She spun on her heel and, regretful at leaving her roses, resolutely stalked back into the house to continue her routine.

Their rooms were a deplorable mess, as usual. She put everything away in their places (order. She must have order here), then moved through the house, picking up and dusting until the house looked just like a model home, like the house she grew up in. Looking like nobody lived there but her. She savored the thought for a sweet moment.

The front door banged open.

“Mom! We’re home!”

“Wipe your feet!” she shrieked as she came around the corner, “They’re dirty!”

Leave it to them to spoil a perfect, solitary moment.

Jeremy came in behind them (was he home already? Where had the day gone? She still had the bathrooms to clean), tracking in a leaf from the driveway and carelessly crushing it into her carpet. The kids had ignored her, as usual, and had run up to their rooms to destroy the perfection she had attained there. Her face hardened.

Jeremy tossed his keys on the kitchen counter (not in the special dish on the sideboard she had bought for that express purpose), and dropped his briefcase on the floor. He kicked off his shoes and left them where they fell in the middle of the kitchen, and went to mix himself a drink from the bar. A headache started behind her eyes, sharp at first, then settling down into steady pounding.

I will not scream, she thought. I will not. She was speechless with anger at his (their, face it, it was all of them) carelessness.

He took a swig of his drink and went to scrounge through her immaculate refrigerator, destroying the orderly rows of jars and food she had so painstakingly rearranged this morning, after emptying the entire thing and giving it a good scrubbing.

The phone rang. She answered. It was her neighbor. Peg smiled slightly, dreamily, listening to her voice praising her clean house and beautiful roses.

Jeremy turned to her. “What’s for dinner, Peg?” he asked. “I didn’t see that you took anything out for dinner.” It was just like him to demand her attention while she was on the phone with someone else.

The kids had come back downstairs, wearing their house clothes (she was sure threw their school clothes all over their rooms and just left them there).

“I saw them come home, Margaret.” The neighbor had always called her by her true name, not her nickname. “They’re making a mess of the house, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” she answered in a shaking whisper. Peg’s headache intensified.

She watched as Todd reached past his dad and grabbed the milk container, unscrewed the top and started to drink from it.

“Todd!” she screamed, holding the phone away from her ear, “Don’t you dare drink from that container! Do you have any idea how germy your mouth is? Do you?”

“C’mon Peg. Lighten up on him. He’s just being a kid,” Jeremy told her.

Peg schooled her face into a mask of calm. Jeremy never used her given name.

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Tune in for Part Three tomorrow!

Neat Freak, Part 1

About a year ago, I wrote a short story for Hauntcast Magazine, and I thought I'd share it with you. If you like it, please feel free to share the link to my blog so others can read it. I only ask that out of courtesy and common decency, you observe copyright laws, o.k.?

So here goes!

Neat Freak

The front door slammed, the noise symbolizing a few hours of peace for her. The kids, Jamie and Todd, were off to school and her husband, Jeremy, would be on his way to work after dropping them off. Peggy sighed with relief and went about her routine of restoring order to her home.

She started in the kitchen, with the dishes. She scraped the usable waste into an airtight container for her compost pile, and then started washing up. She stood at the sink; her hands were encased in thick, heavy-duty blue latex gloves. She was up to her elbows in scalding water and soap bubbles, looking out the window into the back yard. Her prize roses were in riotous bloom, reminding her of the first time she saw them, back when they first looked at the house with their realtor.

She had wandered, alone, into the garden, and noticed the roses right away. They were neglected back then, wilting slightly and covered with aphids. Her heart went out to them. Roses were her favorite flower.

“Those roses used to be lovely,” a voice commented. She thought the voice was coming from behind the fence to her right. She glanced over, trying to see between the slats, but couldn’t catch a glimpse of whomever was talking to her.

“I’m sure they haven’t been fed in at least a year, since the house was last occupied,” the neighbor (she was sure it was a neighbor) continued.

Peggy shook her head sadly. “What a shame. They could be so beautiful!”

“Well, dear, they will when you move in and feed them what they need to grow and be beautiful again.”

And just like that, she decided she would convince Jeremy to buy the house.

As she stood at the sink, washing her dishes and gazing through the window, it occurred to her she hadn’t yet met that neighbor, though the neighbor called from time to time on the phone to discuss—what, exactly? She couldn’t precisely remember, but she seemed to recall an overall sense of approval from the neighbor for her attention to her household cleaning routine and of course, the feeding and care of the roses. Anyway, Peggy was much too busy cleaning right now to go over for a visit.

Her mind whispered, It’s been four months since you’ve moved in. Surely you can leave the house, now?

She ignored it and looked out her window again, her gloved hands viciously scrubbing.

The children’s toys were everywhere, as usual. It seemed that no matter how many times she told them to put things away, to clean up after themselves, try to be neat for the good Lord’s sake, they never did. Jamie was 10, and should be able to clean up after herself by now, but she would not. Worse, she encouraged Todd, who was 7, to follow in her footsteps. Peggy’s jaw tightened. Was it too much to ask for them to tidy up? To stop making so much work for her?

In the corner of the yard was Peggy’s compost bin, the one she used for dead leaves and grass. Next to it sat the bins she used for vermicomposting, or composting using worms to break down the waste. People who knew Peggy were surprised that she would be interested in composting at all, since she was a notorious neat freak. But Peggy liked the idea of trash and waste being broken down into the nutrients she could use for her prize roses. She liked the idea so much she had Jeremy buy her a wood chipper with a “fine” setting to get her branches and larger garden waste to neat and tidy little piles to put in her bins. The smaller the pieces, the faster the compost, and the bigger the blooms on her roses. She idly wondered if it was time to add some new waste material to her piles.

She finished the dishes and stacked them neatly in the dishwasher. Jeremy always teased her about washing the dishes (with soap and burning hot water!) before putting them in her brand new dishwasher, but she wouldn’t listen to his remarks. After all, who knew how many germs were left if you just put the dishes in the dishwasher?

She looked up and noticed the counter had a few crumbs on it. Her jaw tightened again and she made a disgusted noise. Under the sink was her can of cleanser (With Bleach and Other Whitening Agents! the label screamed). She pulled it and a new scrub pad out, removed the wrapping on the pad and carefully disposed of it in the new trash compactor. As she did, she noticed she was running low on scrub pads. Jeremy complained that she didn’t need to use a new one every day, that it was wasteful, but she knew better. Hadn’t she seen the news show the other day about how many nasty germs lived in them? They were filthy breeding grounds for who knew how many as-yet undiscovered diseases.

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That's part one, kids! Tune in for part two tomorrow!