We're Not Hoarders, We Just Suck at Cleaning

I wonder if anyone has ever pretended to be a hoarder just to get their house professionally cleaned for free.

I am probably wondering this because, in my most desperate moments, I have considered trying it myself.

Hoarders should really consider branching out and featuring people who just really, really hate cleaning.  As chance would have it, I just happen to know the perfect household for them to visit in the pilot episode.

I can grasp the concept of people living amid mounds of filth because they sincerely believe their lives will fall apart without it.  The fact that it takes me days of procrastination just to move one dirty bowl three feet from the sink to the empty dishwasher, on the other hand, remains one of the great mysteries of the universe.

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Catsomnia

I have resigned myself to a sleepless existence.

Every night, I share a bed with three creatures who each want to be as close to me as possible.

The worst is Bogo.  Not only does he sleep on my pillow and cover my face in cat hair, but when he's not sleeping, he uses my head as his own personal step ladder.

If he sees any of the neighbors' cats invading our yard, he leaps off the bed (clawing my face in the process), skitters into the living room, and looks out that window, yowling indignantly.  It's all part of an intricate nightly schedule.

Lately we've considered shutting our bedroom door at night, but I have a sinking feeling it isn't going to help.

Oh well.  At least I know I'm loved.

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