clean my ass

Monday, November 14, 2011

I cleaned out my Gmail box this morning because, well, I’m very popular and a lot of folks want to contact me and speak with me about things like friendships and business deals things (read: Amazon.com trying to get me to buy Kindles and email alerts from Twitter/Facebook.) While doing so, I realized that my house is still really messy and that I’d probably have to clean it for like, two hours before I feel ready to have people in it. Like, the aggressive kind cleaning that can be passed off as a workout because you have to wear a t-shirt that’s not cute in case it gets all sweaty or weird or something from all the unnatural body movement.

I started to wonder about where my priorities are at, something I probably should be wondering a whole lot more, apparently. LIKE!!!! DAMN!!! Who am I to clean my Gmail box when my house is looking like a somewhat ladylike episode of Hoarders? You know?

But then I was all, “Chill, girl. You’re cool.”

Because can clean my house tomorrow, it’s fine. I’m not David Blaine. No offense.