The Fool-Proof Guide to Failing with Flair

Everything you need to know about getting it wrong.

Well Hello Again



OK, so I have ignored my blog long enough! I’ve given up berating myself about things like this though. Life happens. Halloween, pre-Thanksgiving, and Thanksgiving have come and gone. Christmas is about to descend like a bat outta hell. Things have been hectic, a little overwhelming at times, and fun too. There have been 3 holidays, 2 funerals, one trip to NYC, lots of wine, lots of friends, a little whiskey, a couple of nights of dancing, and more than one night of staying out until last call. I have worked on other writing projects, but I have neglected this baby. So I’m back. Lucky you.

For no particular reason, it’s been an emotional day. I watched the last two episodes of The Voice while I cleaned, crying through every song and every chore. Now, I hate cleaning, but really? I have company coming this weekend, and I am intimidated, but not enough to cry about my bathtub ring. Pathetic!

This friend of mine has a house so immaculate you’d think Mary Poppins and a horde of magic elves with OCD cleaned the place every hour, on the hour. I’m serious. I have never seen a house like that before. Everything is in place. No piles of any kind, anywhere. It’s a very nice house, with a comfortable vibe, but I am unused to such, well, extreme tidiness. In case you didn’t already know, I am not a neat freak. (Understatement of the millennium.) I have a tiny, cluttered apartment that I clean mostly when I feel like it. Which is close to never. I’m not a disgusting pig. The dishes get done almost every day (most of the time), I clean the bathroom at least twice a month, but I have a problem with clutter, piles, putting away laundry, oh, and taking out the recycling. We won’t talk about cleaning the fridge or vacuuming. I feel like I’m about to go in front of the Saint of Clean Houses for judgment. I’m hoping that bacon and whiskey will placate and/or confuse SCH enough to pardon my sins.

Obviously, I am going to Hell.

I know I won’t be alone though. If clutter and chaos earn me a piping hot seat in the Southern Ever After, Moniker (aka J, aka, Dirty Girl) will be joining me there–along with a few others. I have traveled a bit with Ms Moniker, and I have seen her closets. I think it’s safe to say she and I will be sweating it out together. (In case she gets upset about that statement, let me say that she is MUCH better about general household cleanliness than I am. And really, Moniker, won’t it be more fun with me–and pretty much everyone else you know–in the netherworld?)

Enough dilly dallying! Time to go back to cleaning and attempting to mitigate the fate of my dusty-house soul, or at least trying to delay my departure to a warmer climate. It’s been a lovely break from that toasty-warm hand basket I’ve been traveling in, and I’m really quite thankful to have finally gotten pushed back over the edge into blog-insanity. Funny how cleaning and procrastination gets me back to my writing. I’ve missed you, blog and blog readers. I’m pretty sure they have wifi in House Cleaner Hell, so I’ll post again soon!

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