My House Is About To Be Condemed...

OK. So my house isn't really about to be condemed...but if any of my various parents/step-parents/parent figures stepped into my house right now...any one of them would beat my behind like the my Mom caught me peeing in the sandbox at the playground across the street from our house. Man...I think there are still splinters from that wooden spoon in my behind. Toothpick anyone?

I don't know how my house gets in the state that it always manages to get in. Really...right before I left for holiday break...I cleaned house like a Jew during Passover. The toilet bowl was sparkling...looked so nice I almost drank out of it...floors mopped...dishes done...clothes hung up...mail sorted...and now it looks like Hurricane Katrina made a guest appearance.  It's so bad right now that the clothes in my living have seceded from the clothes in my bedrooom and threatening a civil war if their independence isn't recognized. The dishes are holding an environmental summitt, and I think they just issued a document suggesting that perhaps global warming is completely my fault...and my toilet bowl...well...lets just say I've Sno Bowled every day for a week...and I'm still not sure that the brown stuff on the sides of the bowl isn't the ebola virus.

Now I could have spent today in rubber gloves up to my elbows, a hazmat suit, and some stylish yellow galoshes and counterattacked...but instead I've been hiding out in my office...afraid to return home during daylight...since I've got a much better chance of sneaking into my bedroom without having to deal with border patrol at the newly declared Republic of the Gap in my living room. Pretty soon the Minute Men are going to be showing up at my doorstep at night trying to keep me out of my own house!

I did get some very important things done today...like...I wrote my step-dad...felt bad...the man is sittin' in jail...and I haven't written since December. Got a "where'd ya go?" letter in the mail yesterday. I read some minutes that I'd had on my desk for a decade. I made a dent in my email from last week. And I took a shower. I'm particularly proud of the shower. At least I'm clean. But there comes a time in every man's life when he must break out the swifer, leave the wife and kids behind, and do his duty for God and sanitation. Today is that day. I only hope that the guerrilla dust bunnies are willing to negotiate.

Comments

[-just jeremy-]

I've had some friends who have taken out their issues on their home environment. So when they are depressed, they don't clean. Is this what's going on with you sweet?