Skip to main content

To clean or not to clean...

My house is a mess. How can that be? I haven't lived in it for almost a month. My 8-pound cat has been here, but how she could wreak this much havoc, I have no idea.

So - to clean or not to clean? That is the question. I am home for five days before I take off for 10. What does the gambler in me do? Live in a mess for five more days knowing in 16 I will come home to a HUGE mess to clean? Or do I clean tomorrow to live relatively tranquilly for four days knowing I'll have another mess on my hands when I return, but that the mess I'll return to if I clean will be less heinous than the one I would have if I just sat around on my butt all day tomorrow.

Decisions, decisions.

I am going to clean tomorrow, but even pretending for a minute I could handle living this way for another week is a bit freeing. Seriously, Simba and I won't have company this week. No one will ever know I need to dust and vacuum. No one will know before I can vacuum I will need to move the suitcase that is still by my backdoor (and the clothes I have piled on the floor next to it for the washing machine); and absolutely no one will see the tiny piles of cat hair that have collected in various corners of my carpet.

But I still have no idea how one tiny cat can make such a friggin' mess of my house. And yes, I am blaming her. The pile of shoes (14.5 pair - no idea where the left blue heel is) next to the rubber plant is modern art. And the toothpaste spots on the faucet are there because I'm saving water, and thus, doing my part to save the planet.

I need a pool boy...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I do have a blog

Wow. Look what happens when your friends guilt you (in a good way) to joining the 21st Century: You find out you joined almost two years ago and forgot about it. Either I'm a trend setter or am going insane. You pick. So...here I am. I'm avoiding homework, which is becoming my newest hobby - and I'm very good at it. My final is due Friday. I have plenty of time. Hours. And, thanks to the birthday party last week, a few bottles of wine. With wine and hours, if I can't pull out a comparison between tainted corned beef and New Orleans' levee breaks, no one can. Alright. Here I am. Again.

Absolutely nothing

Summer is over, or so it would appear as I look out my window and see clouds and know it's an autumnal 57 degrees. What a word, autumnal. No one I know ever uses that word in real conversation. Seemed appropriate here though. Autumnal... hmmm... School starts tomorrow and I have a sense of dread going into it. Anytime the professor sends an email the Friday before class that basically says "Hold on to your hats, it's gonna be a bumpy ride" I get a tad nervous. He calls the course demanding and challenging. Crap! I really am not in the mood for demanding and challenging at the moment. But I've read 3 of the 30 pages I'm supposed to read by Wednesday. The discussion board has due dates for every post and it appears I am going to be a busy gal. Crapola. I'm still feeling restless about me. I want to do something but I don't know what that something is. I don't even know if it has to be something important or mundane. Maybe I just need a t...

Commando - not the cheesy movie

There's something about not wearing underwear that makes you appreciate kegel exercises. Today I went commando. No big deal. People do it all the time. I've dated two guys who thought underwear was a two-word question. But when you're not wearing panties - or gramma undies - or a thong - or boy shorts - or hipsters - or tap pants - and you're talking to the boss and there's that little voice in your head that goes "Naughty girl!" (my little voice sounds like Austin Powers), and then you sneeze, well... that's when you say a quick thank you to Dr. Kegel for figuring out that squeeze thing. See, I have to do laundry. I've had to do laundry for a couple days. I figured that out when yesterday I realized I would have to wear the most uncomfortable pair of hooker underwear I own. I figured it would be OK; I've worn them before, just not to work. And not all day. Uh, no. Trust me when I say that piece of lace isn't made to actually be on for mor...