Monday, March 06, 2006

The House of Horrors

My house looks as though a hurricane of mass proportions raged through it. So far this morning, I have spent a total of two hours scrubbing, putting away and generally tidying…and yet I still have miles to go before I sleep. My question is: HOW ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH DID IT EVER GET TO THIS POINT??! Ah, but I can answer that question, too…it’s because of this machine right here. The computer continually lures me to it with its siren song; once parked here, my world fades away and I slip into a Pentium coma.

The worst part is that during these lovely Pentium comas, I am fully cognizant of the fact that the house needs my attention. Somehow, this knowledge causes me to expend tremendous effort finding things on the computer that I convince myself must be done immediately in order to avoid the vacuum. Really important things, like writing Joe Rogan of Fear Factor to tell him what an asshat he is. I spent a good half hour doing that…a full half hour of my life, folks…time that will never ever be given back to me so I can utilize it to fold underpants like a good girl. Damn you, Joe Rogan!! Damn you to hell!!

Of course, the whole “writing Joe Rogan to tell him what an asshat he is” has raised certain uncomfortable questions in my mind. For example, given that I actually spent time constructing and sending out an email to this individual to tell him what a loser he is, which one of us is really the bigger asshat here? The fact that he responded unfortunately does little to assure me that he is alone in his ass-hattedness. Procrastination is my life.

However, today, I’ve resolved to turn over a new leaf. From this day forward, I vow to pick clothes up off of the floor prior to them forming a mountain in the middle of the room and multiplying with more fervor than minks. I resolve to wipe down my kitchen counter-tops before they reach the stage where their original color is unrecognizable. I vow to vacuum prior to having mice send out invites to their friends and family, extolling the virtues of the inexhaustible food supply at ground level; and most importantly, I vow to clean the cat litter prior to it becoming a solid lump on the bottom of kitty’s sandbox.

Barring that, I vow to hire a maid to come in and do all this shit for me.

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