Thursday, June 23, 2011

My Life, in Avoidance . . .(a blog post in which I say nothing of importance)

(don't say I didn't give you a heads up).

So, then. Avoidance of what, you might ask?

Of vacuuming, mostly.

Sue me. I don't like to vacuum. Or clean. I mean, who really does?

The way I recall it (which is probably all wrong), I spent most of my childhood being asked to clean and avoiding it. I became quite a pro at that second part. If you don't believe me, ask my sister about the maid game. She'll tell you what I mean.

At any rate.

Perhaps it's because I grew up in a modern house covered with dog hair and dogs (well, thank god for the latter part, or the dog hair part would have been alarming). These were not any dogs, mind you, but big, drooling, great danes with paws the size of New Jersey and strings of drool dangling in strands, just ready to fly out from their jowels in slo-mo as they ran the tiled floors of my childhood hell.

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah, my parents' house and their dogs and the dog hair. And the drool (and, fyi, they're still there, btw. The danes. New ones, of course, like the fifth incarnation, because they're danes and danes have notoriously short lives, but I digress).

Now, add to all this: mirrors. Lots and lots of mirrors. If anyone loved mirrors it was my parents. Trust me on this one. It was not a vanity thing, but a "modern look" thing -- plus how they believed that mirrors gave the "illusion" of larger rooms and reflected the light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Ah, I almost forgot, add to the mix floor-to-ceiling windows, and put the dog drool back in. And don't forget the pounds and pounds of dog hair. Now  you're starting to get the picture.  

So, you can see why I feel like I spent my childhood with a vacuum in one hand and a bottle of Windex in the other (fyi, this is probably completely false. My parents can probably count on one hand the amount of times I vacuumed and/or did mirrors and windows in my blessed childhood, but if that's the case it's only because I balked the other 365 days x 18 years I was asked. And boy could I balk.

At any rate.

Now I am all grown up. My house is free of dogs and mirrors, but there are boys and birds. Did I mention boys? I mean, don't be fooled. Either one of those things could give you a run for your vacuuming money.

So, what was my point?

Oh yeah. Avoidance.

So, now that my book is out, I need to market it. I need to be my own publicity machine. Because of blogging and the internet, this is something I could be doing somewhat productively 24/7 if I wanted. But then, who would want to?

Not me.

*glances around at birds and evidence of boys and taunting, snake-like vacuum curled and ready to strike*

Because, here's the thing, I think I've suddenly realized. I'm not a slacker, I like to be productive and busy.  So, if I stop marketing (and since I'm in between manuscripts), unless I have a mediation, I'm no longer "working." And if I'm no longer working, I have to do my other designated job as housekeeper, and get up off my ass and vacuum. Plus, I should probably wash the windows. And I don't see my sister exactly running in here in her effective french maid outfit offering to help.

Besides, why should I vacuum, when the cleaning woman comes in another five or six days?

*Sighs. Stares at screen and types "library summer reading programs" into search bar, and keeps ass firmly planted.*


  1. LOL, priceless, Gae. I hate vacuuming too. I'd never hire a cleaning woman only because I'd have to clean before she came, so she wouldn't think I was a slob!

    My house is kind of messy, but my ass is firmly planted too.


  2. My husband just told me to put my ass back in my chair...LOL