Clean

If I could outsource anything, it would, without question, be the cat litter box. I can’t think of anything more rank, and while I love my cat – really I do, despite jabs to the contrary – I have a hard time conjuring the stones to reach in there and clean it every week. It takes me DAYS to build up the courage, and by the time I do, I’ve built it up to be such absolute misery that it’s never quite that bad, considering it involves cleaning up someone else’s urine. Someone not of my flesh, mind you.

I hasten to add that I scoop it daily, lest you think a step inside my home is redolent with the amniotic stench of days-old urine. It’s not, I assure you, but cleaning the remnants is nonetheless a task I’d rather pay someone else to do. Add that to the list of things I’d do if I ever had more money than I knew what to do with, because while yes, there are people who will do these things, do you know that down here, they are $50 A DAY? Is it me, or does that seem entirely unreasonable?

Unrelated, I made this note somewhere else, and it was met with at least one comment of surprise, but after the whole Howard K. Stern thing, maybe this will be tame. Is it me, or is Philip Seymour Hoffman indescribably hot? No? Because he is, and no amount of ridicule can make me think otherwise, greasy hair, beer gut and all. I’ve always thought so, and I always will. Don’t try to talk me out of it, though support is entirely welcome.

Also, today a colleague who mentioned the date March 14, and I announced, “Oh yes! You mean Steak and BJ Day?” before I realized a) where I was (WORK) ; and b) who I was talking to (A MAN). Mercifully, he was in the midst of dialing, and missed my completely inappropriate reference, but that didn’t stop me from actually putting my head between my knees and breathing in very, very deeply for a few seconds, mortified with the realization of what I’d almost done, which would be to launch off about a sexual holiday, if you can believe there is such a thing, which I’m pretty sure is a no-no. Perhaps my slip-up can be related to the fact that I only recently learned of this phenomenon, and it may serve the women readers of the bunch to take note, and make their reservations at the nearest Ruth’s Chris. Well, at least for the steak portion only, please.

Also! A cop came into work today for something completely benign and random and, as is my M.O., I panicked. I’ve mentioned this before, but every time I’m around a police officer, I am CONVINCED I am doing something illegal and about to be busted, even though I haven’t so much as illegally parked in more than a decade. No matter: I am going down. I’m 100% positive that he’ll ask me to search my bag because my eyes are shifty (they always are) and in it he’ll find a 100-gram Ziploc of cocaine or meth, and I’ll be screeching, “I swear to God, I have no idea how that got in there!” which of course, will be the truth, but all he’ll do is shake his head and rough me up while he cuffs me and takes me downtown for booking, calling me “Lady” in a disappointed tone. Meanwhile, some meth addict will be gleefully rubbing his hands in the bathroom stall, getting away scot-free, and I’ll be in jail for 10 years for possession with intent to sell.

It’s important to note that when our house was almost broken into last year, when the policeman (who later, swear to God, was arrested on child porn charges) came to the door, as usual, I panicked and I think the third words out of my mouth were, “Why would they want to break into our house? It’s not like we have any DRUGS here or anything!” This of course, led to wild gesturing from Adam for me to sit down and shut up, lest we sit there all night while three police officers and a K-9 unit tear apart our house for drugs that we do not now have, nor have we ever had. I must have been a criminal in another life.

I hope the weather where you are is clearing up nicely and that, ah, spring has started to…spring. I especially hope that this is true for Boston, as I am headed there this weekend for a wedding shower, and while I am willing to freeze my tootsies off for this particular person, I’d love it if I didn’t have to. Weather aside, however, I can’t wait to see everyone, and I am particularly thrilled to see the bride, who is one of my favorite, favorite people on the entire planet.

Happy Tuesday!

*Also, can I just say that I really loathe the trend of abandoning link lists in favor of Google Reader feeds? I don’t want to read your whole feed, I want a link list that I can choose from, and click around the way *I* want to. Don’t force me into another feed, where I have to scroll through lists of posts to get to the link I want, or I can’ t see an entire link list in its entirety at a glance. I have my own reader for that, and I find some of my best reads by clicking around other people’s blogrolls, not some another hard-to-navigate long feed of blogs you choose. I want the link list, dammit! Bring back the link list!

**Depeche Mode

23 comments March 5th, 2007

Torn to Tattered

We took Sunny to the dog park this weekend, which she always loves, even if she comes back smelling like the feces of a thousand other dogs, but we sacrifice where we can for canines we love. What I don’t get is the people who get dogs and then refuse to let them act…like dogs. We encountered a Chinese crested in a denim vest with a bikini tan line, and a chihuahua wearing what I can only guess was a tutu, and naturally, neither were allowed to play, and Sunny’s attempts to get them to chase her were met with nothing but angry glares.

A Chinese crested dog. With a bikini tan line. That totally bears repeating.

I spent the better part of last week working on freelance projects at night, which, while lovely, left me with nothing but a brain that resembled a fried egg during the day. It wasn’t, however, nearly as bad as a few weeks ago, and was actually really enjoyable.

Honestly, though, I keep thinking I’m going to grow out of my awkward phase, but really, after 31 years, it’s time to accept that awkwardness is here to stay. And I guess by “awkward” I mean “horrible slob who cannot eat without staining her clothes and also, can’t keep her zipper up.” Am I the only one with this problem? I just did two loads of laundry and at least 3/4 of them had permanent stains on them from some splurty money shot of mayonnaise or another from last week. And no fewer than three times last week, someone stopped me to politely let me know that my zipper was down, exposing what were always something unglamorous like Hanes Her Way or Jockey. I really wish I could be one of those women who has an immaculate collection of matching lingerie to choose from every single morning, no matter how pedestrian the outfit, but…well, it’s never going to happen.

Also, it might be worth mentioning that sometime after breakfast last week, my boss stared at me questioningly, in a rather serious work-related conversation and then politely, asked, “Is that…? Well. Um, you have something on your cheek.”

Yogurt. I had yogurt on my cheek, but it didn’t look like yogurt, and instead, resembled something much more sinister, like maybe I’d spent some time in the bathroom with someone of the male persuasion, oh my God. From my breakfast of – you guessed it – yogurt, something like 20 minutes before. My best guess was that it was room temperature and flung onto my cheek when I peeled back the aluminum lid. I hope. Oh god, I don’t know. I just look forward to the day where I can make it through a week – one week – without falling, wearing my lunch or appearing as though I am about to disrobe while sitting in my office. I honestly fear for my poor future children, who are going to have to bear the humiliation of a mom who is not only messier than they are, but falls down and hurts herself just as much as they do. Poor Adam will literally have a house full of toddlers. Pray for him.

And sadly, yet fortunately, I’ve got to go write more for actual money that is being solely used to fund my dentist’s family vacations, because there is another crown on the horizon.

Happy Monday!

*Carbon Leaf.

11 comments March 4th, 2007