Not to air my dirty laundry for everyone to see but I REALLY need to clean up my basement and studio. And when I make a public statement like that you can tell things are getting pretty bad. Maybe I’ll tackle it this weekend because I think it’s safe to say that this basement isn’t going to clean itself. I’ve eagerly been waiting all year long for my basement to get inspired and clean itself. But, sadly, that simply hasn’t happened. And I don’t think it’s going to either. Dang that’s a pisser to blow a whole year just to discover that! I could’ve brought a hot date or two over in all that time. But I can’t because my studio and living space is a dump. Women, God bless ’em, do have quite a knack for straightening things up. Much more so than guys do. But I’m old school and would never, ever bring a new date over just to have them clean up my pad. No sir. The real gentleman would save that sort of thing for a second date when you know you really do like her.
But since those hotties aren’t lining up to take a shot at cleaning my crib up I guess I’d better do it all myself. Lordy knows I don’t really want to. And just thinking about it gets me all depressed. I can sure think of more pleasant things to do with my time than cleaning house. And I’m sure you can too. Like running a hundred mile supermarathon. Or eating raw thistles. Or peeing on an electric fence. But, love it or hate it, cleaning house has gotta be done at some point. So might as well roll up my sleeves and get busy on it. I’ve procrastinated as long as I could. So says the fine people from the county health department. And I don’t think they came by just to help me clean up either.
