This is Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle. They say those who live in glass houses should not throw stones. Or something like that. I don’t know who in the world lives in a glass house, but someone probably does. Someone lives in a rock house, I am sure. Or a wood house. Or a house on wheels like ours. Or maybe a house that’s a tent. Or maybe their house is their car. Maybe their house is a mansion because they are a movie star. Maybe, they live in a tree. You know, like a tree house. I could go on like this all day long. But I will stop here. Because as usual, I have a story. And a point.
This past weekend, Girl Person decided to take a break for once to clean and do laundry. And once she puts down the computer thing and starts cleaning, we know that it is going to be mayhem. Things get thrown away, things get sprayed with stuff, things get thrown out the window. I hear the usual comments like why are we so dirty. Why don’t we ever have any time to clean. I hear why is there sand in my underwear. If I wore underwear, I would be mad about that too. Digby says yet another reason not to wear pants. But it always ends up with Girl Person remarking that she needs to get her life in order. And then she starts thinking back to when we had a big yellow house or a trailer on the water from Country Cousin Person. And then she starts thinking maybe we have gone a wrong direction or something because we are still in a house on wheels.
You know, I find it crazy that persons worry about what they live in. Why do they spend so much time filling it with stuff that they end up throwing out the window anyway? Why does it matter what their house is made of? Meeting all kinds of people on the road, we have met some of the happiest people that live in their van, or in a tent. We have met some of the most unhappy, arguing people who drive around in a big motorhome that they have trouble parking.
In my Sheriff estimation, I think it all comes down to one thing. How YOU feel about YOUR house. You see, I often hear Girl Person comparing herself to others. But with houses, did you know that no one has a house like yours? Why? Because you aren’t in it.
No one has what you have filled your house with..the love…the trials…the experiences…the memories. I have to break it to you. Your house. Is a very, very, very fine house. Be proud of it.
It is easy to feel bad about what we can or cannot afford. It is easy to compare ourselves to what others have, or worry about what they may think of us. But we all were born on this earth with nothing. And we will leave with the same.
Think for a moment of a house that you loved. Maybe you’re like Girl Person and you think of where you grew up. She thinks of her room with a Pink Panther bedspread and a play oven in the closet. She thinks of walking down the trailer hallway to a kitchen with her mom standing in it making chicken nuggets and her dad coming home from work, taking off his boots. She thinks of Granny and Pappy’s house that is now Aunt Person’s house. She thinks of sitting in the living room and watching the news or drinking some merlot. You see. It is the people in the house that we will remember one day. How will you be remembered? What filled your house? It is what inside that counts, whether that’s a car, a tent or a mansion. And if there is a little dog hair in there, all the better.
So the next time Girl Person starts cleaning, I am sure another life lesson will come to me. Until then…she needs some underwear without sand in them. It makes her a little grouchy.
There is enough to feel bad about in this world without worrying what our house is made of. Until they can build me a house made out of peanut butter, I will take my house on wheels. It feels like home to me.
-Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle