Hysteria! It's in the Bloodline, Baby

Yesterday, the Matron announced her closet cleaning intentions. Now, that impulse extended to Scarlett's room, as well. This would be the conversation leading up to the week-long residential summer camp where she is currently residing.

Matron: "Just so you know, when you go to camp, I'm cleaning your room."

Scarlett: "I'm not going to camp."

Matron: "Yes, you are. In the meantime, go through the closet and all your drawers and pull out clothes that are too big, too small, somebody else's or don't fit your current sense of style."

Scarlett: "Nothing fits that description."

Matron: "Give it a shot anyway."

Ten minutes and steady series of sighs and groans later, Scarlett emerged from the black hole with one pair of pants and a t-shirt. "Here."

Matron: "That's it? You know I'm cleaning you're room while you're at camp. Be prepared. I'm going through drawers. Deep-tissue level, okay? We could do it now, together?"

Scarlett: "No. And I'm not going to camp."

Well, she did, kicking and screaming.

But friends! Yesterday, after the Matron wrote her lovely blog post and purged her own well-ordered room, she decided to tackle Scarlett's. She entered at 11:00 a.m. Within ten minutes, it was the Matron who was kicking and screaming. Literally.

She pulled a pile, four feet high, from that child's closet.

There was even odor. The Matron had to go out in the hallway and let the rage wash away. Yogic breathing.

Friends, that room was so disgusting and so full of junk, in every corner! The Matron realized how little she had entered, as of late. Here's a short list of surprise finds:

• one calcified bagel
• one rotten banana, two apple cores
  
• nine glasses
• seven forks
  
• every piece of paper Scarlett has touched in the past two years
• twelve American Girl magazines
• the three library books currently incurring fines
• two feather boas, seven pirate eye patches, 22 copies of Peter Pan script
• one piece of bone-dry poop, supplied by Satan's Familiar

The Matron nearly burst a gasket! Photos don't do justice, as the Matron was too busy tossing, organizing and scrubbing to document the muck in every drawer and on every surface.



There was even food inside of drawers! Scarlett sheds junk like skin cells and now the Matron knows where it all lands.


Whereas Scarlett could identify one pair of pants and a t-shirt with toss-away potential, her mother pulled out THREE bags!

The Matron emerged from her journey at 6 pm -- seven hours later. She hasn't seen that blanket in 2.7 years.


In the meantime, while the Matron cursed and scrubbed (really, she was in a tizzy - -she must get this child to clean at least a little!), she simultaneously worried about her daughter, whose farewell to her mother, was this:

"I'm definitely going to die here, so you should get a good look at me while you can."

Indeed, as Scarlett composed her Last Will and Testament the night before deaprture, the Matron sent an email message with this subject line, to the camp director: Hysteria, Heading Your Way.

And -- after seven hours of slaving in that adorable, complicated little slob's room -- she got this email message from the director:

"Dear Mary: We have an entirely different child at camp! We have the first day under our belts and Scarlett has certainly settled in! Her counselors said she led the songs in the cabin last night and fell asleep, just fine. I've seen her several times today and she's talking excitedly with her counselors, interacting with new friends and often, emerging as a leader. There's discussion of staging a play!"

He sent photos, just to prove what an effective little scam artist her child is. Look how alone and lonely Scarlett appears.




Now, that looks like a good idea, Scarlett. The Matron nearly wishes she had one to turn on herself after finding two pairs of her own shoes, one bracelet and a missing hair brush in your room.


When Scarlett comes home and sees this, the psychological collapse will be immediate and complete.