Motherhussy

“Lust” and “envy”. When thinking of those two words together it usually conjures up images of married thirty-something’s watching Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee (or whoever in the hell she’s with now) make-out on VH1. Or, it’s the just-turned-sixteen-year-old male drooling over his orthodontist’s Audi TT. Usually lust and envy are associated with diamonds, furs, large homes, yachts, huge breasts, massive biceps, fast cars, $300 denim, and anything else falling into those MTV-endorsed categories. Often, I find myself a victim of lust and envy. Sometimes I wish I had massive diamond encrusted biceps, or that I lived in a large home made of fur and $300 dollar denim. Yes, I lust for these things—and envy those who have them.

Today I enviously lusted after something again. But this time, it wasn’t the huge-breasted yacht that was made out of a fast car. Today, I lusted after a pair of book shelves. That’s correct, book shelves. Oh, I know what you’re saying—“Book shelves, what the heck! Bookshelves don’t have big boobs, or get drunk and wreck Lamborghinis, or have adopted children from foreign countries! Why are you lustfully envious over bookshelves? Guuuuuurrrrl, you crazy!” Before you start judging me, let me tell you why I have such lust for a pair of inanimate objects. These aren’t just any shelves, these are a pair of vintage mid-century modern bookshelves that are making me drool on my keyboard just thinking of them. The fact that they are vintage mid-century modern isn’t the only reason they are such objects of lust and envy to me. What makes them extra special is how we first met. The shelves, I will refer them from here on as “Babs and Lola”—my affectionate terms for them, were not found in an Ikea store, clever reconstructions of cheap steel and particle board—No! Babs and Lola were not found online at some degrading eBay auction—No! Babs and Lola weren’t even found at a kitschy South Bay furniture boutique. Babs and Lola were found—get this—in the Church lounge!

I had been to the lounge before, it was there I interviewed for my current job. Why hadn’t I noticed them then? I must have been somewhat nervous, distracted by run-of-the-mill interview questions (“Who is your God and eternal Savior?”—just kidding, my boss found out everything she needed to know about me on myspace.com, hehe). During the interview I also had a coughing fit which may have made me appear to be some type of nicotine junkie, but I digress. I didn’t notice them the first time, or even the second time I was in the lounge. But today, today was special. While I was going about my secretarial duties, there they were. They were just sitting there, innocently—unaware of the seduction their very beings placed on me. I saw Babs first, and she took my breath away—(really, I passed out and hit my head on a folding chair). I cannot describe in words the way she looked, her double shelves stacked one on top of the other, teetering on four thick-then-thin legs. Was that walnut she was wearing? I don’t know, but I had my suspicions—shelves like her are known to dress in fine woods like that. Before I could completely envelope myself in the fantasy of carefully placing an abstract object on her top shelf, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Was it? Could it be? Oh my Herman Miller! Babs had a twin sister! The fantasy now began to spiral out of control. Lola was every bit as beautiful as her sister, and I couldn’t help but feel the heat they brought to the room when they were together. My mind began reeling as I paired them together in all types of compromising decorative predicaments. Side by side in the front room, on either side of my bed in the bedroom, as shelves for black and white photos, beat-junkie books, hand-painted pottery bowls—I even got twisted enough to put them in the boys room, but I realized then I had gone to far. I needed to bring myself back to reality. I stopped, wiped the stream of drool coming from my gaping mouth, inhaled/exhaled several thousand times, and that was when the tears came.

I realized that Babs and Lola were all alone there in the lounge most of the time. Who knows if anyone really cared about them? Did anyone understand the beauty and fulfillment they could bring to a soul such as mine? I did. I worried about Babs and Lola being in the lounge all alone, so I thought I would bring up the subject to Pastor Katherine.

“Katherine, have you noticed the shelves in the lounge?” I asked, sounding casually disinterested at first. If only she knew the wave of lust I had just experienced—I would have had to go to confessional.

(*Not Verbatim) “Oh my gosh, you mean those two sweeeeeeet mid century modern shelves?” she gushed. “Aren’t they cool?”

“Uh, yeah. Real cool.” I tried to hide my enthusiasm again.

“So, uhhhh, you think that anyone would want to sell them to me? Like, uhhhh, in a rummage sale or something? Any teeny tiny chance of something like that happening someday before I die? GOOD LORD ALMIGHTY I WOULD GIVE MY SOUL FOR THOSE SHELVES!”

(*Not Verbatim) “Sorry, I already have dibs on them,” she replied.

See, that right there just proves that Pastors can be ultra cool and hip.

I may never experience the rush that those shelves could bring to my life on a daily basis, but Babs and Lola will forever be in my head, in my heart, and in ALL my furniture-oriented fantasies. Now that I think about it, it isn’t lust and envy I feel for those two girls—it’s pure, unadulterated love.

FIN