Another glorious weekend is about to arrive like a cherished love letter in the mail.
Unfortunately I can’t remember the last time I got a love letter. Nobody even sends me any love letters anymore. Just bills and magazine subscriptions. But at least I can enjoy another weekend and Lordy knows I’ve sure got plenty to do to keep me busy. My plants need tending to, my basement studio needs a good straightening out. I’ve got a pile of books that’s about to reach critical mass if I don’t start reading something soon. The dirty laundry pile is looking pretty critical too.
Ok, ok….. Now we all know why I don’t get any love letters because I am the all-American bachelor aka slob who cultivates messes with same care and devotion that an avid gardener cultivates their prize roses. Maybe I should write a book about that because there isn’t anything in the book market that caters to us slobs! How could the book publishing industry allow such a thing?! That’s a major injustice because an entire demographic is being ignored and neglected because how are we supposed to be proper slobs without proper encouragement and instruction? I know a good idea when one hits me and this one is way too good to pass up. I’m going to give it a think this weekend. That should keep me preoccupied enough that I won’t waste my precious weekend doing boring stuff like cleaning house or doing laundry or tilling the garden. Perish the thought my boy. I’ll wind up a best selling author and a soon-to-be celebrity slob I’m sure. My new found fame will cut into my chore time no doubt but it’s a sacrifice I am willing to live with. I now realize more than I ever did before that a slob’s work is never done. Mostly because we never seem to get started.
