Just a Rolling Stone

My sister inherited my room after I got married and left. I had the front room with French windows in an old Victorian Cape May style house in our small town.

My sister was a die hard Rolling Stones fan. She proceeded to cover the walls, mirrors, doors, closet, headboard, footboard and everything else with pictures of Mick Jagger. There was his head, his body, his big mouth, all his parts in a giant wall to wall, floor to ceiling collage. She left herself one little oval space in the center of her (my) huge dresser mirror so she could see herself. Not something you'd see on HGTV.

She was a hoot. She spilled her talcum powder on the dresser surface and just kept using it from there, dabbing her fingers on the dresser top to pick up whateve powder she needed to apply. This went on forever.Powder and dust  I'm sure but ours was a very loosely wrapped home.

When she moved out the room became one of the cat rooms. My Mom had several Persian cats. They got the big double bed and of course, the Jagger decor.

My Mom had the room next to that. It had dark cranberry wallpaper peeling off the walls and more cats. My Mom used to kid that she probably had hairballs, but she probably did with all the mounds of cat hair like tumbleweeds floating around the place. 

We had a cleaning person but like the dogs my Dad would bring home the cleaning people were always "off". One, Daisy was a drinker. She would basically come to the house to sleep it off, no cleaning ever occurred. We had a Spanish guy, Jesus who would try to push some of the mess around but he really didn't accomplish much. Granted the house was a challenge for anyone with all the animals living there.   My Dad would pick Jesus up in the city and get him a nice big sandwich.  Jesus would  sit and eat for an hour or so and before you knew it , it was time to go back and my Dad would drive him home. I think it was just a way for Dad to help Jesus make a little extra money.

We had a young guy, John, one of my Dad's patients children. He would come clean the monkey cages.  My Dad took him under his wing, mentored him and he's now a Pathologist at Long island Jewish.

For awhile, my Dad had a general practice in the office in the front of the house but between screaming birds, monkeys, cats and cat hair everywhere it just didnt work out. 

When cats stroll through your office as you examine a patient it makes them wonder.

My sister? She is now a neat freak. Go figure.