Monday, February 15, 2010

I Am Not the Queen of Clean

I must confess: my house is a mess.
From bottom to top, the mess never stops.
I try very hard to be tidy and neat,
but, the dust bunnies tumble across my feet.
My clutter is controlled by baskets and bins,
so, I'm not quite sure where the chaos begins.
I admit: I have too many things--
knick-knacks, doo-dads, thing-a-ma-jigs,
things bought on impulse, things bought on sale,
things dragged home from curbside, things delivered by mail,
things that are tiny, things that are not.
How do I get myself out of this spot?

Saturday, February 13, 2010

A Bad Case of Gardener's Itch

Frigid air, be gone. Snowbanks, get thee hence. Forecasts of icy precipitation, be now and forevermore disallowed. Just go away, winter, and take your slippery roads, high heating bills, and sidewalks to be shoveled with you. I have had enough of you.

Friday, February 5, 2010

The Frustrations of Being a Retail Clerk

This is an impassioned plea from someone who works in retail sales: Do not mess up my clothing racks and displays!!! I beg you. I am the one who gets to untangle all the bra straps after the rack has been pawed through and left in disarray. That sweater that someone carelessly lets fall to the sales floor? You guessed. I am the one who gets to bend over for the 7000th time and pick it up and rehang it. The fitting rooms don't clean themselves, in case you've ever wondered. Someone, in this case, I am that one, gets to turn all the inside-out clothing right side out and return them to their respective homes. After a customer rummages through a stack of tee-shirts marked size "large" hoping to find one marked size "extra small", someone gets to refold the crumpled garments. You guessed it. I am the lucky someone. I'm not complaining. I'm just saying......

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

When Popcorn Replaces Passion

People tell me I am unpredictable, but, if there is one constant in my life it is my nightly bowl of popcorn. I munch, even now as I clatter away at the keyboard. I'm zany crazy about the stuff. Denied my daily indulgence of it, I become, not quite dejected, but a bit off kilter. Not sociopath wacko or Texas Chain Saw Massacre homicidal. But, I feel unfulfilled, somehow.

I'm not yet addicted (at least, I don't think so) to the buttery little puffs that soften to a satisfying mass between my back molars. I mean, there are plenty of times when my horoscope just doesn't hold the promise of popcorn. As astrological fate would have it, there are times when it's just not convenient to be hauling around your hot air popper. (Someone should design a collapsible model!)

I've learned to tuck a few bags of the microwaveable variety into my overnight bag when I travel. This doesn't mean I have a popcorn abuse problem, it just means I am old enough to know how to get my needs met. There is nothing worse than discovering (at 2 AM while clad in your PJs) that all the vending machines in the entire motel are out of Orville's.

Lest you should think I am injuring my health with my inordinate consumption of a snack food, let me reassure you that no butter is involved in my luscious little habit. A bit of olive oil drizzled with a certain amount of abandon and a sprinkle of salt substitute tossed upon the heaping mound are enough to please my taste buds. And no food cops have to issue a warrant for my arrest.

A day without popcorn is like a day without __________. You fill in the blank.