Stop Making Sense

The same person* who takes great pride in eating directly out of cans (because it saves him having to wash dishes), and boastfully uses the same coffee mug, for a multitude of beverages from morning until bedtime, coffee (obviously), orange juice, soda, milk, beer (what have you), without ever rinsing it, is somehow also the same person who sparked out yesterday with an emotional decree:

"You shouldn't open the blinds during the day!!!  Eventually the carpet will fade."

Um, what? 

Hey, fuck you Heloise.  I'm opening the blinds.

What am I Howard Hughes?  If you suggest that I start wearing slippers made from tissue boxes because it helps prevent scuffs on hardwood flooring I am just as likely to tell you to go piss up a rope.  On second thought, don't do that.  There's a distinct line between fading and piss, let's not cross it.

To be fair there have been a lot of emotional decrees lately.  I get it, it's a new house, and we are filling it almost daily with new furnishings and bits and bobs.  We want it to stay nice.

1.  There will be no eating or drinking of beverages, other than ice or water, or any combination of the two, while in the living room or while sitting upon or near any of the new furniture.  (This is my rule, but I often find myself watching the new giant TV while standing just on the other side of the back of the sofa, feet firmly planted on the tile in the breakfast nook**, munching on a snack and thinking about how fucking stupid my new rule is and, if MDH isn't home, eventually breaking this rule by planting my snacky ass right on the new sofa and munching away.)

2.  The bed will be made daily by the person who remains in it the longest.  (Or in other words, last one up is a rotten egg.  This is also my rule.  What the hell is wrong with me?)

3.  The kitchen counter and bar will no longer be a repository for mail and crap from the bottom of a purse or pockets or any combination of these items.  (Yep.  Also my rule.  The rest of the rule should say: All mail and crap, etc., is to be shoveled haphazardly into the black hole next to the sink hereby referred to as "the menu drawer" before MDH arrives home from work.)

I suppose the theme of this post, if there has to be one is that I project my crazy shit onto MDH, make my own rules, promptly break them, and then hide it. 

Seriously though, not opening the blinds to keep the carpet from fading?  

Since I'm no longer allowed to enjoy sunshine in my own home, why don't we just never walk on it either.  In fact, let's just kill ourselves (neatly, over plastic in the garage, don't get nutty, concrete absorbs stains) so that we can hover over the new furniture and finishes, enjoying the glory of it all as ghostly spirits, so that it can all remain perfect and pristine forever and ever.

Maybe we can compromise and just wear sheets around the house in order to minimize the dust particles we shed.

No.  Fuck the carpet.  I want to live.  Preferably in my new home which, by the way, gets excellent light all day, which, by the way, is one of the reasons we moved here.

Right.  Now, please shut up, turn the sofa cushion over and pass me the popcorn. 

It's fine.

*In hindsight I'm not sure that I made it perfectly clear that it's MDH I'm referring to as the person who eats directly out of cans and uses the same mug all day without rinsing it.

**We don't have a table in there yet, so I will probably feel less stupid when I don't have to stand up while I'm snacking.  Probably.

Tidy Up Playlist

Last night I topped off a husbandless week by going out to Karaoke with Rachel and Aria. I drank two beers and sang a decent rendition of "Something to Talk About", cheered loud hillbilly Ya-hoo's when a group of folks I'd never seen there before chose a Red Hot Chili Peppers tune and broke out in goosebumps when Aria belted "I'm Every Woman" and some Christina Aguilera song I think was called "Impossible", hitting every note perfectly. Rachel busted out my finale (it was my finale because I left afterwards) with "Let's Hear It for the Boy".

It was a good time, but the party is over.

This morning while sitting in the den, having my tea I heard a rustling of papers and looked over to see our cat Turtle making a pathetic attempt to look nonplussed after squeezing himself into his favorite napping spot. Over the course of the week I'd thoughtlessly covered it up with a pile of mail, newspapers and a pair of shoes. He laid down, draped one of his front legs across the heel of the shoe, and gave me a withering, disgusted look.

"Loud and clear, buddy" I said getting up. "I'm on it."

I've had 4 days of walking by piles of clothes and kicking off my shoes where I stand and leaving them where they lay. There are piles of unopened mail in nearly every room in my house. Even by my normal standards of bachelor living when MDH is away I've been a slob. I've hung my jackets and scarves on the treadmill instead of walking 10 feet and hanging them properly in the foyer closet and set a new roll of toilet paper 1 foot away on the side of the tub instead of simply replacing the old roll in the holder which is inches from the toilet.

I've already mentioned the fact that I have to vacuum the den. I won't take you there again.

These types of sloppiness are all simple enough to remedy, but not for me because I notice things as I straighten and end up losing focus.

As I bend over to pick up a pair of shoes from the kitchen floor I notice an errant splash of what appears to be spaghetti sauce on the baseboard under a cabinet. As I reach for the cleaner to wipe the cabinet I notice how dusty the window sill has gotten. As I lean across the sink to wipe down the window sill I notice all the crumbs that have gathered in the toaster.

The kitchen is typically the cleanest room in my house so I can already see how the rest of the day is going to pan out and now I'm irritated.

What better way to remedy irritation and make cleaning a little more tolerable than music?

So while I'm busy tidying up and going of on cleaning tangents I'll share with you some samples from what I like to call the Cleaning Playlist:

I Zimbra by Talking Heads - Who wouldn't want to scrub a toilet to this?

Blues In the Night by Artie Shaw - Just try not to to remove your rubber gloves burlesque stripper style when you listen to this. It simply cannot be done.

Rock Steady by Aretha Franklin - Changing the sheets.

Whammy Kiss by The B52's - Sorting the mail.

Beercan by Beck - A great song for gathering recylcing.

Hem of Your Garment by Cake - Helps me start the laundry and put away shoes.

Me, Myself & I by De La Soul - Windexing mirrors.

Cold Beverage by G. Love & Special Sauce - Time for a break.

Mother's Little Helper by the Rolling Stones - Still break time.

Sexbomb by Tom Jones - Swing your hips and sing into the mop handle.