Monday, December 3, 2012

I need a maid

I spent a goodly portion of my weekend reclaiming my house from dust bunnies and miscellaneous mess, and by the end of it I was dreaming of a maid of my own.  You know, like Rosie, the robotic maid from the Jetsons.


She'd never judge my mess, or wonder how I ended up with zucchini on the ceiling. She’d know where my cat hid her hairballs, and remove them before I found them at 3am, in bare feet. She wouldn’t leave the dishes to “soak” and then forget about them until the next day. She’d keep my mess to a minimum, which is something I am apparently not good at doing, at least not when I’m writing.
I live alone and work a nine-five job, so though I’m the only one making the mess (apart from the previously referenced cat) I am also the only one cleaning it up. And that’s where the problems come in. If I were just working, it wouldn’t be a problem. I’d fold the laundry, empty the dishwasher, and live in a tidy world. I know, because I’ve done it before. The trouble is that these days, the moment I walk through the door; my muse wants me to write. That’s something I didn’t know until I started down this path. The more you write, the more you want to write. And once I start writing I tend to lose track of important things like my surroundings, the passage of time, and the slow, creeping arrival of chaos.
So Santa, I hope you’re reading this, because I know what I want for Christmas this year.
1)      A robotic maid
2)      Chocolate that actually helps you lose weight (and tastes great)

and 3) Whichever of these you think I deserve. I was a very, very good girl this year!



 

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