Friday, January 8, 2010

The Monolith

After we sold the condo we moved (escaped) to the cottage in Culver City. The owner called it a cottage but it was, in reality, more like a converted shed set back behind a row of 1920ish Spanish Bungalows. I called it my Innisfree at the time because the stress of the condo had sent me into a near mental collapse and I was looking for a hideaway or, more precisely, a hideout. There were some seriously insane people in the condo building--I'm talking horror movie scary--and I actually feared for my life. Or at the very least, my Chihuahua's life. And this place was so hidden I felt like even the Nazis couldn't find me. Of course, I eventually came to realize that all this seclusion turned in on me and made me even more fearful. If someone broke in to kill me, would anyone hear me scream? I know, I am terribly paranoid and the victim of an overactive imagination but it really wasn't a place you wanted to be alone in at night.


Being that it was some sort of converted shed that had undergone two or three expansions in its long life, it was full of charm but low on practical features such as closets. This set me out on a search for something which could contain all the sundry things one normally puts neatly away in closets or cabinets. We found this large armoire on craigslist. The seller lived in Silverlake and was moving to New York and needed to unload some of his eclectic possessions. This one being an antique Indian apothecary armoire. Of course, as my husband and our friend Jason, who we paid off to help move the damn thing from Silverlake to Culver City (too far for those of you not familiar with Los Angeles) learned, the most likely reason he was selling it was because it weighs more than than the entire naval fleet of the US Military. The sucker is heavy. On that very first move into the cottage, we christened it with the name Monolith ala Space Odyssey 2001 and it is truly deserving of the title. Who would ever want to move with that damn thing? Oh, I guess us since we've moved it three times.



It is now with me in the desert and has become something other than the monolith. It has become the black hole of clutter, the dark hole of crap. I'm not a hoarder, I love getting rid of my things, even things I like. I've given away furniture to friends, clothing to co-workers, and food to any charity that asks. Your interested in that book? Oh, you can have it. What comes around goes around. Out with the old in with the new. But, if I were to fall into a parallel universe and find myself in a Twilight Zone-like episode of Hoarders, and they were to ask, standing amidst piles of old receipts, unread books and magazines stacked high like a twisted Edwardian maze, if I could pinpoint exactly where it all went wrong, what exactly birthed this horrible reality, I would succinctly and without a beat, point to my nemesis, the Monolith, as the source of the insanity.


It is the one place in my home that I can't seem to get to. I can't seem to tackle. It is a junk drawer on steroids. It is the place I shove things when visitors are coming over. It's the place I put things that I want out of sight but can't throw out. I have everything from board games to bills shoved in that thing. I hate its utter lack of organization and yet I need it. I need it because it keeps the crap out of the rest of the living space. I know there will come a day when I will get rid of it or at least its contents and that will be a day to raise a glass and toast my freedom from the Monolith.

22 comments:

Existential Waitress said...

I want a Monolith - or more specifically, can I have yours since you like to give things away? ;)My house is in serious need of some storage space - we really need to get organized around here.

Amie said...

Yes you can have it and all its contents too.

Existential Waitress said...

I'll bet that sucker costs a grip to ship...C would not be pleased...

Jason said...

You paid me? What a friend I am!

Amie said...

it wasn't that much. And I think we jacked up your car too.

Annika said...

Damn it, the Waitress beat me to my generous offer to take it off your hands.

Amie said...

I am not kidding people it is the heaviest object known to mankind.

Jason said...

You are not kidding. It was heavy - like it was so dense it generated it's own gravity heavy.

On a completely separate note, and this is not criticism but merely observation, my wife told me that she couldn't believe how big her ass was yesterday. That's not something I've ever heard her say till now. I think she must have gotten it from your blog. And you too EW. All this talk about big asses. Thanks a lot! ;)

Amie said...

Jason, LOL. You your description of the Monolith could apply to the girth of my ass. Actually it is my mid-section which is shockingly large to me. And I doubt Monica has anything to worry about. She is growing a human being inside her at present.

Existential Waitress said...

Jason, sorry about all the talk about big asses - but A is right, your wife is growing another person in her stomach so at least SHE has a good reason! :) I just enjoy food a wee bit too much...

Anonymous said...

Hey, nothin' wrong with big asses! :p

-(not Big D) Oops. ;)

Existential Waitress said...

Nothin' wrong with a little junk in the trunk, eh?

Nancy@ifevolutionworks.com said...

I made a pact to myself that I would clean out the clutter in my closets/drawers/pantries/etc. I put a big garbage bag in each room and have been dumping stuff into it every day.

Amazingly that made "cleaning" much easier. I am now 9 bags lighter in crap around the house. Ahhhhhhhhh

Amie said...

Nancy, That is a great idea. I think part of the problem is that I have it in my head that this place is temporary so I just don't feel like putting too much effort into it. Instead, I keep shoving shit into the monolith.

Anonymous said...

When we got that monolith, the guy said it had come from India. There are all these shelves inside made of this thick wood, and one time I removed one (in order to make more space) - I took a hammer and pulled out one of the nails... and I swear the thing cried out in pain! That monolith is a world unto itself...

D

SPEAKING FROM THE CRIB said...

i can sympathy with moving something heavy i have a turn of the century up right piano and i have moved it i think five or six times my husband always swears he's just going to leave it here if we ever move again.

Existential Waitress said...

That's the pool table for us. It took Carl and SIX of his friends to move that sucker. They looked all traumatized by the time they finally got it into the garage.

Suzanne said...

I'm late to the party, but I have to say I'm in love with that piece of furniture. It seems to me that every mom needs a monolith! A black hole to hide all the clutter. Brilliant.

Amie said...

Suzanne, you are right. I am going to reframe my thinking about the monolith and just be glad I having a good hiding spot for all the junk.

Amy said...

LOL!
You remind me of Monica from Friends. She's such a neat freak (well, not to me. To me she is normal!) yet there was that one episode with the locked closet, and come to find out it was Monica's "junk closet."

Really pretty piece of furniture though!

amy said...

Amy, LOL. It is true. It IS kind of like that. Good Friends reference.

"that girl" said...

wow.... theres way to many "amie,amy...'s" in this, by that i mean"3" LOL... i didnt even read your blog but i saw all the crap in that picture and thought, oh i should really tell her she has a lot of crap! LOL not trying be rude though, actually i find it funny =)