Not frequently but sometimes I feel like I know exactly how middle-class housewives felt at 4 PM in 1950. This feeling is influenced by a mixture of Douglas Sirk films, the Mr. & Mrs. Bridge novels, and speculation. Mostly speculation.
It peaks in the late afternoon when I spot some household object that needs cleaning, and there is a moment where I decide to hop to and get the rag OR close my eyes in defeat. This moment has the strange quality of being a decision over which I have no control. It really is.
The feeling is also that of awaiting a person’s arrival at 5:30 PM, after work. What kind of mood will he be in? Should I prepare something? It’s an odd meeting because one person has been waiting and the other has not; the expectations and heart rates of each are far apart. At these moments I feel like a middle-class housewife in 1950.
My father has been writing absurd letters to companies for years. He finally started a website to catalog them all. He just launched WriteTheCompany. Its pretty damn funny. Read some of the letters by clicking here.