The person that notices the things

The art of noticing and why it is important

I notice things.

The fact that a party bag has been emptied onto the sofa, and there are ladybird stickers on the fireplace.

Cobwebs in every room.

The Brownie uniform curled up in a ball beside the washing machine with four badges lying on the kitchen table that need to be sewn on before Monday evening.

The cat has peed on the bath mat.

The blind with the brown stain as if someone has squirted HP Sauce up the side of it.

Someone has flung my Cowshed shower gel (the one I hide in the back of the cupboard), into the girls swimming bag.

The things that are noticed change each day. Some are actually recurring themes like the blind, the pee mat, and the cobwebs. A brace of exhauastings flying across my field of vision. They stir me into a state of constant motion. I can’t actually sit down without feeling the persistent need to tend to one of them. I never exit a room without something in my arms.

And meanwhile he sits in the kitchen with the newspaper on his lap, and reads through the apocalyptic headlines, whistling along to Suede, the song we used to love years ago, when we first met.

The cat has peed on the bath mat.

These things are important because they create a level of mental disorder in my head which prevents me from reading news headlines about the impending apocalypse. From relaxing. From wanting sex. Or fantasising a new career. Or running for prime minister. They form a significant barrier to me taking refresher driving lessons, and being able to transport my family somewhere different where the things are momentarily forgotten.

I believe that the noticing of the things is significant. If the things were noticed by someone else too (and acted upon of course), I would be an entirely different person. I would be spontaneous, fun and laugh more. I would be a good time girl. I would launch my stand up comedy career. I wouldn’t be the nag.

The toilet roll is replaced. What are we in this house? Anarchists? Lazy arses? Or is it just that they are not noticed? No visitors are coming but still. ARE WE ALL ANIMALS? she silently screams.

‘One day I will be a fucking prime minister,’ she spits.

If you look inside this ear, there is a small piece of tape, and if you pull gently, there are a million tiny tabs. Each with information that is important for the survival of this family. I am an AI future magnet robot you see. I am actually the prime minister of this house.

‘I promise I will never exit a room without picking something up.’

This is the marriage vow that matters.

‘I promise to notice the things and to do the things forever.’

‘And yes the cat peed on the mat and I took care of it before you even noticed. I am also a AI future robot.’

This is what the man of my dreams says to me.

‘Let’s whistle together to that Suede song we love. Sit with me.’