Selected Cronicas

A BOURGEOIS IDEAL

How does an untidy person become tidy? My papers are in disorder, my drawers need sorting out. (I must have a secretary because I am suffering from nervous exhaustion, according to my doctor.) This would not matter so much in my opinion if I had some inner order. But people who are over-preoccupied with external order are precisely those who are suffering from inner disorder and need some counter-balance to give them some reassurance. I need reassurance and this could be achieved if my drawers were to be put into some kind of order. Well, merely thinking of tidying out those drawers made me feel weary and lazy. The laziness that comes at weekends. I hope my laziness will strike a chord in some of my male and female readers so that they will not feel too superior. Frankly, when it comes to tidiness, what I should like is for someone to take it upon themselves to provide me with some semblance of order. My absurd idea of luxury would be for some sort of governess-cum-secretary to take care of my external life, even to the extent of going to certain parties and receptions on my behalf. Naturally, this person would have to adore me — but with the utmost discretion, because naked worship is more than I can bear. It is inhibiting and kills any spontaneity. It deprives us of our right to have those faults, innate or acquired, which we jealously hold on to for support, because it is not only our virtues which serve as crutches.

What else could this governess-cum-secretary do for me? She should not look at me too often so as not to embarrass me. She should speak to me quite naturally but also know when to be silent and leave me in peace. She should decide what to prepare for lunch and dinner — then meals would be a constant and pleasant surprise. And, of course, she would keep my papers in order. She would also understand my moments of sadness but be sufficiently discreet not to show that she had understood. And naturally, I would expect her to reply on my behalf to publishers with tact and diplomacy. As for my children, I myself would take care of them. But she could act as a surrogate mother whenever I want to work or go to the cinema. A surrogate mother has the advantage of not embarrassing children with too much affection. As children grow up, their mother has to become smaller. Alas, mothers tend to go on being enormous. If my sons ever read this, they will be amused. When mothers of Russian descent start to kiss their children, instead of being content with one kiss they want to give them forty. I tried to explain this to one of my sons but he told me I was just looking for an excuse to justify all those kisses.