Ramona, The Housewife From Hell

Halloween has got to be one of the best days around for a person with an alter ego. So when I went to school today dressed as Ramona, and the junior students asked who I was, I was almost offended. Who is Ramona?! Are you kidding me?! Ramona has been such an integral part of my life for the last fifteen years that it seemed ridiculous to have to explain myself...er...herself. Ok, so I smiled and thought to myself, they're young and it's time they learned about alter egos. I said, "Do you want to hear the story of who Ramona is?" and they listened with looks of confusion and fascination as the woman in front of them, dressed in a purple polyester dress, with a white floral apron, and a feathered hat (with a birdie on top), slowly released what they most likely considered an insane story of a woman that went over the edge. Well, you can't say they didn't have anything to discuss with their family at the dinner table tonight. This is not exactly what I shared with them (because I do want to stay employed as a teacher for a while); I give you the extenda-version....

Ramona is a married, stay-at-home mom with a teenage son. For the longest time, she was extremely proud of her position as a "domestic engineer". Not a curtain was ruffled, not a dust ball could be found, not a crumb could be found on the counter. She had created a utopian kitchen and a fantastically obsessive compulsive domesticated routine. Ramona figured that if she was going to stay at home, she was going to do her job to the best of her abilities. But as is the case with most people when left to their own devices for too long without company (because 9 to 5 is actually a pretty substantial amount of time to be left alone on a daily basis) Ramona became a bit "quirky"...yeah, that's what we'll call it, because this was just the beginning.

She went out and bought herself a pair of silver slippers. You know, the ones with the heel and the fuzzy top that looks like a dead rodent just went through the dryer on a high temperature for 50 minutes? She bought them after her son muttered something under his breath about her being so "bleep"ing anal all the time, just before he slammed his bedroom door in her face. She didn't exactly know what he meant by that, but it didn't sound good and she figured it meant she needed to loosen up a bit. Perhaps her husband would notice her a little more if she wore those silver heels and painted her toe nails a hot, hot red. Who can resist hot red toe nails?

Then she started to fantasize. What if Julio Iglesias came to the house for shake-and-bake pork chops one night? And he sat right beside me and commented on my hot, red toe nails. And my husband became excruciatingly jealous and they arm wrestled right there at the table, pushing the jellied cranberry sauce and green bean casserole to the side? So any time the phone rang, Ramona made sure to answer the phone in less than three rings, because you never know. You just never know who it could be. And people always hang up after three rings. And if Tom Cruise can call people on the Oprah show, then who's to say that Julio wouldn't call Ramona? And these thoughts weren't hurting anyone, until that fateful day when there was a combination of spray starch, silver slippers and a ringing phone.

Have you ever used spray starch before? For those of you that haven't, it's actually an interesting scientific experiment on how to make a skating rink on linoleum or laminate flooring. Just a fine dusting of spray starch is all you need to turn your floor into a potential killer. Ramona was in her kitchen ironing her husband's underwear. They don't call them "tighty whiteys" for nothing....That's when it happened. The phone rang. This is it, she thought. This time it's Julio. Perhaps she was just having a passionate moment, holding that underwear, thinking of Julio, the steamy heat of the iron....it was all too much for Ramona's silver slippers to handle as she tried to run over the spray starched floor. KONK! She's lucky there aren't any scars from the iron hitting her on the side of the head as she went down. She lay on the floor, completely dazed, listening to the phone ring and ring, and ring, unable to move.

Things changed after that day. They were subtle changes that the rest of the family didn't notice for some time but Ramona noticed them within herself. They just started with altered thoughts; what would happen if I washed my feet half way through washing these dishes? Nobody would know. Absolutely nobody would know. I've always wanted to go downtown to that little lounge and sing, "Killing Me Softly" in that karaoke machine. Who gives a shit if I sit down for a couple minutes this afternoon and watch a little bit of wrestling on TV in my underwear? She was at the mercy of her mind, and allowed these new thoughts to consume her. But then her husband noticed that their room smelled funny…different…Ramona had stuffed her pillowcase full of marshmallows. She explained that they helped get rid of her migraines and that she was forever cured by the science of marshmallows. Her son found the red toe nail clippings all epoxied together into an odd, dome like sculpture under the bathroom cupboard. Dust bunnies floated by the dinner table while Ramona served up a mean batch of macaroni and cheese put into fried bologna bowls. Just like Dorothy once said, “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto!”

And that’s the Ramona that I like. The Ramona that is a bit rebellious to the monotony of domestication. She’ll still do it, but only if she wants to. She knows that there are jobs to do, but she’s going to make them a bit juicier, a bit spicier than they were before. That iron-laden konk to the pumpkin was exactly what Ramona needed to feel free and show a bit more of her true self. Ramona does things her own way.

And so today, Ramona decided to free herself of the stress and worries of life, and chose to dance to a “How to Disco” K-tel record for a half an hour in the art room. Some of the students got up and joined, “weird Ms. Bobinski” for a while before they sat down. Some just sat in their seats in awe, practically dying of embarrassment for me. But Ramona didn’t care. She just wanted to dance for a while before getting back to doing what she has to do.

Gotta love Ramona.