Dear Diary or Dear Blog or Dear Comfort Zone, it is with trepidation that I come here today. OK it's time for a clean up, or clean out, and that makes me go weak at the knees. Not in the same way I would go weak at the knees on seeing Johnny Depp, or George Clooney. It's a different kind of, it's fear. I suck at domestic things, maybe I should have been born on another planet where domesticity wasn't mostly confined to women. This is the only time when I don't like being a woman. But a friend is going to do the cleaning out, I will watch and help out, although this friend really doesn't know what she's getting herself into. My house is mad, just like me. And after having been born and bred into a family where cleaning the house is of the utmost importance, here comes me who couldn't give a hoot about it all. I have to admit, I would love my house to look straight out of glossy magazine, and it has potential, but it doesn't gracias AnnMarie.
So now I'll take myself to buy the necessary cleaning materials and hope it will turn out all right. Say a prayer for me this week.
So now I'll take myself to buy the necessary cleaning materials and hope it will turn out all right. Say a prayer for me this week.
