I need to hire a cleaning service. Seriously.

[Note: I know I've been egregiously (happy, S?) negligent in updating the blog lately. So busy. Work, vacation, and the usual summer activities . . . and just a general lack of motivation, I suppose. But, things have slowed down a bit, and I'm back in the mood, so the blog should be getting some attention in the near future. In the meantime, here's a post I wrote a few weeks ago and didn't post because I wasn't quite satisfied with it, but anyway, I'm putting it out there now. More very, very soon--promise.]

O.K., so in a few days I'm leaving for my Wisconsin trip (which, in case you don't know, I'm doing instead of my Guatemala trip--long story). And I have SO MUCH shit to do. So much. Ever get to that point where there's just so much friggin' stuff to do that you're totally overwhelmed, and you just blow it all off? Welcome to my world!

So, my original intention was to get up early and get started on my long list of tasks immediately. Unfortunately, I had failed to actually make a list--which, having such a list really does help me get motivated. So I woke up, started thinking about everything I had to do, couldn't decide where to start, and instead spent the morning reading, watching T.V., talking on the phone, and fooling around on the computer. Sigh. I did manage to get the dishes done (and there were a lot of them). But then I looked around the rest of the apartment, and all motivation just drained out of me. I hate cleaning. I have limited free time that I would rather not spend cleaning. I can afford a cleaning service. Therefore, I should just hire a damn cleaning service already, right? Right.

For me, though, this seemingly simple solution is problematic on several levels. First, I'm not sure I want someone I don't know in my apartment when I'm not there. I'm not so much worried about theft--it's more about my animals, and in some respects, my privacy. I'm sure, for example, that Josie would be fine and wouldn't attack someone who came in to clean, but I'm not crazy about the idea of her getting comfortable with strangers coming into the house when I'm not here. Also, I know that when I'm cleaning, my cats tend to get in the way a lot. I say something to them and they generally move, or I gently move them . . . but what's to stop a cleaning person from kicking them out of the way? (I know, I know--I'm being paranoid and overly sensitive about the cats. Can't help it. That tiny, bleating maternal instinct within me has to come out somehow.)

And then there's the whole privacy thing. If I'm not there, what's to stop a cleaning person from, say, looking in my nightstand? Digging through drawers and closets? Etcetera? I mean, the temptation is too great for a lot of people to resist. And here's the point where I'm supposed to say, "I have nothing to hide, but. . . . " Bullshit. Everyone has something to hide, or at least, something (or things) in their house that they'd rather strangers not see. (And if you don't, I feel sorry for you--you may need to spice up your life a bit.)

In an alternative scenario, if I have the person come when I'm home . . . well, that's no better. What am I supposed to do while this person is scrubbing my toilet? Read a magazine? Watch Law & Order? Talk on the phone while they listen to my conversation? I just think that would be so awkward.* (And maybe there's a bit of middle-class guilt going on here too. I think this is one of those luxuries that I never pictured myself indulging in. I could probably get over that part, though.)

So, what to do? Well, one thing's for sure--I doubt I could get anyone to come out TODAY and clean my house. Which means I should probably face reality and get to work. Or, instead, I could write a match.com blog entry update. Hmmm. . . .

(*I was talking about this very issue with a friend recently, actually, and this friend was in agreement with me, so I don't think I'm being too weird/paranoid about this. And to that friend--I miss you! Call me!)

In the words of my nephew . . . this is the BEST THING EVER!

I was not planning on this entry, I wasn't looking for fodder, I wasn't even planning on signing in to Match tonight at all. But they have this brilliant thing they do: every three days or so, they send you an e-mail titled "Your Matches." In this e-mail, they provide part of the profiles of, like, 9 or 10 guys they think you might be interested in. And of course, when it's sitting there in your inbox, you check it out--you never know, right? Well, yeah, you kind of know, but's it's a brilliant marketing scheme. Who can resist opening such an e-mail? Not me.

Anyhoo, I got one of those e-mails tonight, and I casually opened it while watching "America's Top Chef" (which I've somehow become totally addicted to). And lo and behold, I came across the most . . . commentable-upon profile ever. (And yes--to the person I was just talking to today about my tendency to make up words, I just made up "commentable-upon." Makes sense, doesn't it?) I won't say anything quite yet--I'll just post the opening comments in full, complete with all (sics) intact:

Okay, I am leaving my job in the park. I am the mime that juggles cats for a living(they do not mind being juggled, but they really hate it when i shave they face to put on the mime make up). Well they was a slight revolution and the leader , her name is pudddin, she ran off with the keys to my 74 pinto wagon. not a good day. But I always look on the bright side, I am going to buy a newer Pinto wagon, and make into a funny car.there is nothing more bueatiful than a smart confident woman. A person needs to be accepting of what they are, what they are on the surface and inside. Also We men are not money, you cannot change us the way you would a twenty, hey if you were to change a twenty how would you ask for it back? Hey if you are a big fan of Dr. Phil or John Gray, good luck. Lastly I cannot stand bad table manners or word that are spelled incorrectly

(No, I didn't forget to copy and paste the period at the end. There was no period at the end.)

Man, where do I start here? Do I even need to start? I'm kind of curious about whether or not some of you perceive this the same way I do. That's why I'm going to propose something that will draw ire from a variety of sources, but mainly from people (probably bloggers) who believe you should never solicit responses on your blog--the responses should come organically, naturally, without undue influence. Fuck that. This isn't about generating responses (and I should point out--I don't even have a blog counter, anyway). This is about my curiosity about this issue. So, let's have a multiple-choice survey, shall we?

Survey Question: After reading the above profile, what was going through your head?

A. This guy is a complete and total freak.
B. This guy is trying so hard to be cute and clever, but he's clueless about how to do it right, and it comes out SO WRONG. . . .
C. I have a hard enough time getting past the aggregious spelling, punctuation, and grammatical errors to try to decipher the actual intent of this bizarre post, let alone try to analyze its outcome, and then I get thrown this curve ball: "Lastly I cannot stand bad table manners or word that are spelled incorrectly, and the absurdity of the whole thing makes my head hurt to even think about it anymore.
D. This profile is so cute and witty. I like it.*

So, feel free to weigh in, and feel free to add your own "E." entry if you feel like it. This isn't like No Child Left Behind, you know. This is not your schoolboard's standardized test.You are actually free to express yourself and show creativity here. Extra points if you guess which one is my response. (Tough one, huh?)

*If you chose this answer, you and I are not on the same perception level in this life. We will probably never see eye to eye. Feel free to keep reading my blog, though!

More Profile Don'ts

O.K., folks, it's list time! As I've always known, and as a very special friend recently reiterated, everyone loves lists. So, without further ado, here are my top reasons for automatically eliminating someone as a potential match.com date based on stuff in their profiles and their written interactions with me:

1. Random Capitalization. This is a More Common Problem than you might think. Some People, in their Profiles, will just randomly capitalize words that have No Business being capitalized. Why? Why? Here's a classic Example:

Happy Camper, seeking to share this journey with an Exceptional Woman who has taken care of herself Emotionally, Physically etc... I'm described by friends as loyal, honest, funny, dependable, hard working/playing, sincere... I'd have to agree with them most of the time... I'm proud of my Family and appreciate their support, and Very Lucky to be surrounded by Good Friends who keep me centered... I'm a Travelholic, Chocolate Aficionado, Ethnic Food Loving, Music Listening, Best Uncle Ever, Golfer... OK, OK Enough about me. Please, let me hear about YOU...

I especially like how this paragraph degenerates toward the end into capping almost everything and then, finally, into ALL CAPS, fulfilling its inevitable destiny. I'm SO tempted, since this guy actually e-mailed me, to write him back and tell him I couldn't possibly date someone Who Caps Things He Shouldn't . . . but do I really want to go there? Do I want to become the Asshole Editor Woman of Match.com? I'm already the Crazy Woman on the Bike Path Who Yells Things at Cyclists. I can only wear so many bitch hats, people.

2. Stalking. I currently have two e-mail stalkers. Both of them have written to me several times, despite the fact that I haven't replied to either of them, ever. In case it isn't obvious, I find this rather creepy. Here, in order of succession, is the correspondence I've received from one of them. (You should probably know that I didn't respond to him the first time because, in his profile, he mentions God, and Jesus, and praying, repeatedly. Um, that's another don't, by the way. Unless you're on eHarmony, that is.)

First message: I'm looking for someone semi-normal to share time/life with. Give me your craziest up front so I know it can only get better from there. I'm very easy going and I aim to please that special someone. After reading your profile, I would bet we have much in our past that is common. I'm not always on, but my perception and judge of character are usually pretty accurate.

Second message, three days later: Come on. I want to hear about it. My background is of course different from yours, but it is one hell of a background. Not trying to match stories or wit, but I like to see what life has thrown at someone and through that adversity, what comes out the other side. If you feel comfortable, you can call me. [He then provides his phone number.]

Third message, three days later: New pictures posted for me. I still hate them. [Apparently, he thought I wasn't responding to him because I didn't like his pictures. Which is true, but not the main reason. The new pictures weren't great, either.]

Fourth and, so far, final message, three days later: If anything, you are missing out on a conversation of a lifetime.

You're right, buddy--it's my loss. Does anyone else hear Twilight Zone music playing in the background? Hopefully, he's gotten the idea that he should maybe stick to his "conversation of a lifetime" with God. Or Jesus. Or little green men from outer space. Or anyone but me.

3. Shirtless Primary Photos. Besides this guy, there are plenty of other men who opt to bare it all, from the waist up, anyway, in the photos they post. This isn't always a bad thing--the ones who do it tend to have pretty good bodies, and depending on the shot, it's not always cheesy, like when they're in a pool or on the beach or something. However, when they choose such a photo as their primary one (that is, the one that everyone sees initially, the one that accompanies their tag line), they are automatically out. Do I really have to explain this?

O.K., there are more, but I'm out of time. More later, along with updates on the actual dating that's going on. (And there has been some of that--I don't spend all my time on that site criticizing and critiquing profiles . . . O.K., a lot of it, but not all.)

Why Children Are Scary and Dogs Are Not

So, I can't be too specific about who this post is about, because said person may or may not read it eventually. That's a funny thing about blogs, as some of you know and the rest of you can probably extrapolate--you have to be careful what you write about, for the obvious reason that you're going to be putting it out there. I can't always remember who, exactly, I've given my blog address to, and then I have no way of knowing whether or not some people are reading if they never add comments and never mention my blog when we talk. And that's the situation here--I know I've given the blog address to the person in question, but I don't know whether or not she actually reads it. If she does, she would most likely be offended by what I'm about to say, because, as you will see, she's kind of sensitive, so for the purposes of this entry, she will be known as "some people." (Of course, she might figure out that this is about her anyway, but there's only so much I can do, right?)

(And no, this post is not about me in disguise, in the way that all of the "I have this friend. . . . " stories are.)

Anyway, I have this theory on why some people appear not to like children very much, and specifically, children whom they should like because said children are adorable, generally well behaved, and related to them. This apparent dislike of these children that some people have can be very distressing to the parents of these children, especially when some people absolutely adore their dogs and appear to love these dogs much more than they love these children. (Wow, these euphemisms are getting tedious, and I imagine they're difficult to read and follow. Let's just cut to the chase, shall we?)

The fact is, dogs are safer to love than children, because children can devastate you. As anyone who has children or is ever around children for any length of time can attest, there are going to be times when any given child is going to appear to despise you. Unless you indulge a small child's every whim, you are eventually going to do something to piss that child off, and most of the time, a pissed off child is going to let you know he or she is pissed off. You know what I mean--the dirty looks, the pushing you away, the hateful, bratty comments. ("I don't like you," "I wish you would go away," "You're mean," "You're stupid," etc.) Now, an overly sensitive, nominally insecure person, particulary one who's not used to being around children, will oftentimes take these comments personally and become quite upset.

You should not take these comments personally. This is a child, acting out. You are an adult. Deal with it.

Case in point. Last weekend, I went to the zoo with my sister and her two children, whom I adore. Her boy is four, and her girl is almost two. My nephew and I have gotten extremely close--I am the cool aunt who does fun stuff with him and buys him neat things and almost never disciplines him, and he practically worships me, which is how it should be. However, there are times. . . .

So we're at the zoo, and it's ungodly hot out, so we're trying to stay hydrated and keep the kids hydrated all day long, which meant we dished out a lot of money for bottled water which, at the zoo, costs $2.50 a pop. Toward the end of the day, I was digging in the bottom of my purse for the last of my change for one more bottle--we were completely out, and my sister and I were both dying of thirst. So I'm standing at the machine with my nephew, and he decides he wants a pop instead of water. I didn't have enough money for both, so I told him no, I had to use the money to buy water. This did not go over well. When he saw what came out of the machine and realized it was water and not pop, he gave me the most evil look I've ever seen on a child in my life. And he then proceeded to give me the serious cold shoulder--he wouldn't walk next to me, wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't look at me etc. So, I ignored him. This, I've found, is the best way to deal with such a situation, because ultimately, children want attention, right? And sure enough, after about 10 minutes, he'd forgotten all about Popgate, and he was holding my hand as we left the zoo. Happy joyful bonding time with nephew resumed as scheduled.

Now, some people, in this exact same situation, would actually get really upset about the whole thing, and their distress would manifest in getting angry at the child for getting angry at them, and as we all know, adults tend to harbor grudges much longer than children do. Some people would have remained mad at my nephew all afternoon, and might even have tried to get away from him, and at the very least would have ignored him for a very long time. And this situation might happen repeatedly between some people and my nephew, and therefore some people might appear to not like my nephew, but really, they're just subconsciously putting emotional distance between themself and my nephew so that my nephew will not have the power to make them upset when he inevitably gets mad about something. It's a bit ridiculous, but there it is.

By logical extension, some people become perhaps a little too emotionally attached to their dogs, because a dog is never going to get mad at them for buying a water instead of a pop. Never. There is absolutely no emotional risk in loving a dog, besides the obvious fact that you are probably going to outlive the dog.

[So sweetie, please don't be upset. She does love your children--she just doesn't know how to interact with them in a way that feels safe for her.]

So, there we are--yet another reason why I should be an advice columnist. I really wish someone would hurry up and get me a gig like that.

Bedroom Life

Dad--Don't let the post title deter you. This post is rated PG at the most.

[I promised my dad that I would warn him if I was posting anything I thought he would rather not read. The rest of you can take your chances. . . . ]

So, yeah--sorry about the long absence. My life lately has been something of a perfect storm of work issues, lots of people visiting from out of town, a busy social life in general, traveling on the weekends, and ungodly, unbearable heat to deal with the last few days. (Those of you here in town know of which I speak--it has been absolutely miserable in Cowtown this week.) And, since I don't have central air in my apartment, I've spent most of my energy when I am home lately trying not to melt and attempting to keep my animals alive and well. Hence the blog title--since the heat wave hit, I've been experimenting with basically living in my bedroom, where I have a window AC unit. The thing is, the only piece of furniture in my bedroom suitable for sitting/lying/relaxing on is . . . my bed. And guess what tends to happen when you spend a lot of time on a bed? (O.K., some of you need to get your minds out of the gutter right about now.) You wind up . . . falling asleep, of course. And, as much as it doesn't seem to bother my animals to sleep 18 to 20 hours per day, that doesn't really suit my lifestyle very well, or my incessant, nagging need to actually get shit done every now and then. So, obviously, the living-in-the-bedroom thing isn't working out so well.

My slight modification to this plan, now, is to crank the AC up as high as possible, situate a fan in the doorway of the bedroom, and aim said fan directly into the office. The idea is that I can sit in the office, fool around on the computer, and enjoy the cool air from the bedroom being blown in by the fan. The only flaw in this plan? It's SO frigging hot that this cool air, amazingly, manages to dilute itself to lukewarm by the time it travels the 10 or so feet from the fan to my body. Obviously, I need a better plan . . . but frankly, I'm sick of dealing with it all.

An alternative solution? Go out every night, of course! To a place with actual air conditioning! Which is pretty much what I've been doing. Of course, this plan has a downside too--basically, it's exhausting and expensive. So, here I sit for now, in the office, hot, tired, and semi-broke.

It could be worse, I suppose. I could be one of those old people you read about who don't have any AC at all and are found dead in their apartments days after a heat wave strikes, usually by a neighbor or postal carrier. For their sake and mine, I hope this ends soon. I'd like to get back to normal life (or "normal" for me, anyway).