'Tis Sunday. I am feeling fearless. And caffeinated. As such, I am wearing THIS, thanks to my darling friend Heather Hildenbrand, who delighted me with a marvelous and unexpected package a few weeks back:
|Honey badger's gonna strip your skin and dine on your flesh. Notice my very sweet tattoos.|
Yesterday was Saturday. Saturday is chore day. Long-time habit that I have carried forward like a bad debt into this modern life. I friggin' hate chores. I throw temper tantrums. I storm around the house. I harrumph and whine and snivel and complain about stupid, nasty chores like Gollum on a bender (at which time I am reminded by the Voice in My Head that I am just lucky to have a house to clean when there are so many who do not. BLAH BLAH BLAH.) Suck it.
When I was a tween and teen, Mother Dear had very strict rules about chores. Hell, daily dishes took two people an hour each to do (beyond washing the dishes, we had to clean the fronts of the cupboards, wash down the appliances and stove hood, clean the inside of the fridge and microwave, sweep and mop the floor, garbage out, recycling sorted, every single night -- it took forever. You're playing your pity violin for me now, aren't you ... ). There were so many things to do, she wrote them on cue cards and had them secured safe and sound in a little wooden recipe box that we were to consult, and then wipe down, every night. Lame.
|Told you it was lame.|
Anyway, like I said, chores suck, which is contradictory to my love of clean. Clean feet, clean hands, clean floors, clean everything. My body parts have memory. Touch a dirty handle, a debit PIN pad, or the gas pump, my hands remember until I get can get them Purell'd. Walk around without socks, my feet remember every speck of slop until I can get them washed. (In sock-free months, I wash my feet multiple times in a day. Maybe I was Hindu in my last life.)
However, I do like chores when I find fun things, like missing cell phone chargers, pencils with fresh erasers (awesome), money (even more awesome), my only belt that's been missing for weeks (hence my dragging pants), unmatched socks ... Yesterday, there was a bonus in the pile: I found a list of possible topics for blog posts that I made a few years ago. I think I may have written it while drunk because I found it funny sober. And yes, you Judgey McJudgers, I have cleaned more than once in the last few years -- EVERY SATURDAY, REMEMBER? This list just happened to be stuffed in the pages of a journal that is perpetually untouched--I have a therapist; why do I need a journal?--under the leaning tower of books on my nightstand. You guys have those, too, right? Stacks of books that you're GOING to read when you get a spare few years? I had three such stacks in my room. They were toppling. Time to cut the cord and add them to the shelves in the living room. I promise I won't forget to read you, books ... Don't be sad. Mommy still loves you.
|This sideways pile is on my desk, but there are others. Everywhere.|
For one of these topics on the list, I actually wrote down more than just the idea. Bullet points, actually. (Again, likely drunk.) I will now share these with you as you might find them helpful. And I want nothing more in this life than to say that I helped someone, even if it means they have to lie through their teeth and steal money from their kids' piggy banks. I give you the tools; you design the execution.
But I should preface this list, Top Ten Ways to Rid Yourself of Company, In No Particular Order with a little honesty: we never have company. It's been a long time. I guess no one likes us. Which is fine. I get very antsy when folks are in my space. I can't check e-mail obsessively or create genius when there are folks wanting to talk about the failed Canucks season or if it's ever going to warm up. (No, it's never going to warm up. We live in BC. Deal.)
So without further ado, I give you, Top Ten Ways, etc., inspired by true-life events.
10. "Don't mind the roaches. Just leave the light on. They hate light."
9. "I've got this weird rash. The doctor said the smear was positive, but he's pretty sure it's not the flesh-eating variety."
8. "That noise? That's just the teen gangs at the juvenile hall dance tonight. Don't worry -- they only slash tires on street-parked cars on Fridays."
7. "That's the neighbor with the massive crossbow collection. Don't make eye contact!"
6. "You thought we had running water? No, I said we had water running through the yard! It's from the septic. Backed up again."
5. "You want to see our cat skull collection?"
4. Look at your company and ask: "What's for dinner? I could make hamburgers, but I told you about that rash ..."
3. "Check out this porn site -- it's free! And all those animals are legal. They have a rep from the ASPCA on set."
2. "Ever made a snuff film?"
1. "Your timing is perfect. My Star Trek club meets here in half an hour!"
And a bonus, just in case these don't work: "You guys swing, right?"
You. Are. Welcome.
Xs and Os ...