LA LOCA DE LA CASA
THE BROOM OF THE IMAGINATION
The crazy fun spying through the keyhole and contained laughter to see the maneuvering that lady qualifying washed, clean, neat, covered with surgical gloves taking her broom and grouped conceptual lint, cigarette butts, paper, food scraps, wrappers of sweets and toys in little heaps, putting the mania customs that the obligation imposed daily ordering, inventory, divide things according to their genus and species and assign each a watertight compartment, both in the garbage on the shelves and drawers in the house.
The mad we made a provocative gesture for us to share the intelligence, and as the keyhole is not supplied to many guests excited, feverish, eager to laugh and diversions took us to the backyard, silently begging with the index finger stuck in his mouth distended with a smile, eyes blazing with madness and intemperate gestures of a mime or a clown. So just peeked our heads, many of us standing on her toes. Who were we? I could see my classmates more fun: intuition, conjecture, the five senses, dreams, feelings ... But what was the lady of the broom?
She also spied! Watched the work of a troubled child by reading a novel tedious customs upon him by his teacher. The lady of the broom with an air of governess took the script of the task and gave a sigh of satisfaction: the child must exhaust the book as a custom view which holds a fleet lowers passengers, required documents and reviews its luggage without forgetting pockets. How many characters? Their names. Its identity. Brief description of each. Origin and destination. Places they visited. Things that happened to them. Details Topographic author's name, gender, date of its writing, editing date, time and school to which he belongs, name of publisher, country and year of publication.
Ah, but the lady of the broom required a second script that further hindered the already tedious reading if the child: he asked an inventory of literary figures, so that the child was present at the end a Excel spreadsheet with the number and exact location of oxymorons, metaphors, metonymy, polysyndeton, hyperbole and find other monsters whose names carried the young reader to the war of galaxies, the lord of the rings and imaginative film that had replaced the readings recommended by the lady of the broom.
As he spoke in a crisp tone, not low, with a lone voice in orchestral contamination, the words of the lady could be heard clearly, and the Mad summoned us to hear and see the seizure of broom seemed to sweep the book's pages and classify the words in small piles, putting the mania customs duty imposed on him the day of ordering, inventory, divide the words according to their genus and species and assign each a watertight compartment, as in the garbage on the shelves and boxes of books and young reader's memory.
But the torment did not last long because other activities that are demanding the presence of the lady. He exits a few minutes took the child to turn on the TV without sound, and suddenly appeared dressed in a tailored style, bag in hand, hair in a bun conceptually impeccable, clearly ready to go. The boy barely had time to turn off the TV operating the control, but when the lady went dove into the sofa and pulled out of its funds Pipoca remains ominous, chips and soda bottles half-consumed. Captured loud music channel and gave the joyful task of mess and clutter the room.
The temptation was too strong for us: we knocked on the window glass and opened the door. We went into turmoil and then had to see how enthusiastically help you in your task desclasificatoria. The crazy was, of course, the most enthusiastic. Immediately discovered that we had not seen: the broom lady! Danced and danced with her and ran uncontrolled dump and threw the butts on the floor, papers, candy wrappers and scraps of food that had cost so much to qualify for the owner of the broom. Then opened the drawers and threw its contents on the floor, empty shelves and cabinets and then imitated the owner in his qualifying act of sweeping. Only in the hands of the local customs broom became his mental antipodes, if it is the term for attacking a section already qualified and messy! No trash gathered in piles: the scattered! Did not care the order of oxymorons and hyperbole: it became the cadence and chaotic orchestral music or the text read for the sheer enjoyment of reading, without comment.
How was the department! It was a moving magma in which previously classified things seemed atoms of a substance not isolated, but not even named.
However our joy, the celebration had to end because the lady would return anytime and would use the broom to break his head to the young reader. So we took on the task of keeping everything in one cabinet, a chest as big and messy lid could not close even though we sit on it, mostly because the door prsencia sounded and the homeowner was imminent. We went behind the Mad by the back door while the child returned to duty.
night we returned, the child slept, drank yogurt lady sitting in a dining room chair with your back very straight and urban gesture to take the spoon to her lips. At times I looked at the chest and a flush of anger rose to her cheeks. Seemed willing to order it all again before bedtime. Suddenly her husband came tip, carefully deposited waterproof bag on the floor and suddenly hugged her from behind. She turned her face and he kissed her mouth while one of his hands under the bra penetrated and stroked one of their chaste breasts. The lady stood up, hugged her husband and took him along the trunk starting a invective against children visible. The husband smiled as his hand crept under her dress, then opened the trunk and began to draw things and stuff. Each visibly summoned a memory, a nostalgia, a happy moment, the photo album forced to sit on the carpet and exchanging tender glances and kisses. Some of them would keep the memory of a special moment that the husband moved into his touch until he broke down and made love there on the carpet in our noses.
Much of the content of the chest was sprawled on the carpet. Before leaving the bedroom, his clothes disheveled, Mrs. cast a look round, but his eyes had lost the bitterly cold day. They were watery, mysterious, happy. Tomorrow would take the broom and clean the house. Because that night was reserved for further strokes.