15 January 2006

I'm no slattern

Okay, first let's just get straight on our terms. By "slattern," I mean "An untidy, dirty woman. [Perhaps from dialectal slattering, slovenly, present participle of dialectal slatter, to slop.]," not "a prostitute who attracts customers by walking the streets." Just so we're clear. (Pause. Think. Clarify. I'm not either kind of slattern. Spackle over hole left by the bullet just dodged. Move on.)

So the downside to rehearsing one show while directing another is that for the past couple of months I've been home only long enough to change clothes and sleep. And you know how Ira's Dad used to say "Don't put it down, put it away"? Well, if I get home and drop into bed, you can count on it - stuff gets put down, not away. And it piles up.

By the time that I closed The Emperor's New Clothes and had The Cocktail Hour up and running, my place was pretty awful. Sure, Pekoe's kitty box was relatively tidy, but that's because failure to maintain a kitty box can result in terrible consequences. And the laundry was done because I actually had one night free between tech weeks. And there weren't that many dishes in the sink because I was never really home to use them and would put them directly into the dishwasher because a fabulous meal at home was often a spoonful of peanut butter.

But things made of paper sure piled up. Magazines, junk mail, Mom's recycling, things I've carried in from the car, things I decided to deal with "later." My usual dumping area for stuff I wish to put down is the couch because I have no handy table and nowhere to put one. And if I had one, it would already have stuff on it. Probably paper stuff. As the piano bench often does.

However!! I've been home lately. Not a lot, but at least occasionally on my traditional cleaning time, Saturday morning. So the sofa has been cleaned off, the vacuum has been run, clothes have been put away, things have been throw away, paper has been filed. Ã…hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. And there was great rejoicing.

But mostly there was great rejoicing because the bathrooms have been cleaned. Cleanliness may or may not be next to godliness but my bathrooms were next to impossible. Which is not my preference, because having uncleaned bathrooms makes me feel like a slattern. So they've been scrubbed. They are clean!

I'll be home tomorrow night and quite possibly cleaning even more stuff. Possibly even dusting. Whoo-hoo!

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