Tuesday, November 8, 2011

A Kinder, Gentler Betty Draper



I've been pondering, lately, why the kitchen is positioned in the darkest part of this house.

I've been pondering the sanity of the person who puts carpet in the mudroom and kitchen, and linoleum in the bedrooms.

I told Cory two nights back that I believe I may have lost my Mojo. I blamed the house. As I explained it to him, "I'm happy here. I'm fine. I just don't feel very creative or inspired. I'm ambivalent." (I meant that in the most "I know a blessing when I see one" sort of way.)

I am happy here. It still feels a little vacation-y. I love that we're in confined quarters. I do. But it's a little different, somehow.

I miss rolling cinnamon roll dough on my island at 1o pm. I miss living in a shell that feels like my own. I've lost the will to create. Totally lame, I know.

As fate would have it, we came upon Season 4 of Mad Men streaming on Netflix the very evening of my confessed Mojo displacement. SCORE! In no time flat, I had a brand new perspective.

http://cdn.theatlantic.com/static/mt/assets/culture_test/justin_jul23_bettydraper_post.jpg

I'm living in Betty's world. I'm living in her world if she had lived in rural Indiana. Without "Help".

For reasons I can't explain, this epiphany has caused me unending comic relief and cheer over the past two days.



I find myself thinking, "Betty would rock this hooked-to-the-wall can opener!" "She would love my gold starburst shower tile! It was probably all the rage!"

I feel compelled to dig my proper housecoat out of storage. It's true, I own a proper housecoat. I bought it at the Salvation Army a year ago because I simply loved it. It's a size XL and quilted and it snaps all the way down. You just wait 'til I find it.

I may also buy a package of those pink foam rollers.

Betty would.



Maybe I'll take up equestrienne sports. Maybe I'll meet Cory at the door with a perfect Old Fashioned in hand. Maybe I'll buy a girdle and some candy cigs. I'll have my hair set at the beauty parlor. I'll buy pinafores for Ruby and short pants for the boys. I'll throw trash out the window after a picnic. Maybe I will.

It's true, I'm the kinder, gentler, more sober, less catatonic Betty Draper.

I'll bet you had no idea.