Dirty Little Secrets

We all have a dark side, right? Things we're not proud of? Things we'd rather just let faaaaade into the background? I have oodles of dark secrets that should never, ever see the light of day.

However, confession is good for the soul and I hear that karma likes it when you come clean. What's the use of having a blog if you can't periodically use it to unburden your soul onto unsuspecting readers, right?

Deep, Dark Secret The First:

It appears that I really hate cleaning. In fact I hate it so much that, when faced with a display of shiny toilet seats in the discount store, I will lose all sense of responsibility. I will think, "You know what? It would be easier to buy a new one of these thingies than it would be to clean the old one."

This is not even close to true. Nor is it one of my prouder moments, but there you are. It is what it is. I considered buying a new toilet seat to be more efficient than wiping down the old one. My mother is beside herself with the pride.

To be fair, the retired seat came with the place when I bought it twenty years ago and you can't say it didn't do the job. And the new one is pretty darned spiffy. It took some wrangling to get it connected since my toilet is, apparently, not "standard size." But it's on and it's beautiful. Truth be told, when I sit myself upon what is sometimes crassly referred to as "the throne," I sort of do feel like a princess! I really, truly do!

It is shiny enough to put the rest of that particular household fixture to shame, but it seems a bit over the top to replace the entire toilet. Even if it probably would be easier than cleaning...

Deep, Dark Secret The Second:

First of all, let me say that the Olympics are amazing. They represent the world at its best and bring us all together in the spirit of competition and cooperation. I have great respect for the tradition of the Olympics.

However....

It's still sports. Worse, it's sports played outdoors. In the cold. Except for the ones that are inside, but there is still something of a "chilly" vibe going on there. I don't care for watching sports. I am even less inclined to watch sports that involved people wearing winter gear.

This year, I have watched nary an event. Not the opening ceremonies. Not skating. Not skiing. Nothing. I accidentally caught a bit of the curling but that was more of a problem with my remote not responding quickly enough rather than my suddenly developing an interest in the sweeping of ice. (which is, as you know, cleaning and sports put together...yikes!)

Don't get me wrong. I'm as excited as the next guy when we take gold and I've kept track a little bit. Sort of. I'm proud of our athletes. I just can't sit and watch sporty-type stuff without getting bored.

Besides, everyone is Twittering all over the place about it so it's almost like I'm watching, right?

Deep, Dark Secret The Third:

On Wednesday, I announced that I was really getting into the vacation schedule. I confidently stated that I was now ready to tackle all those projects that I'd left undone while I "adjusted" to this workless state. That was probably a mistake.

I started off strong. But then the whole "toilet seat" thing happened and it was pretty much all over after that. It's hard to keep to the schedule once you've taken a left turn of that magnitude. How do you top it?

I ended up sitting in front of a movie for the rest of the afternoon. (A training film, granted and one that offered a few helpful tips I may use in the coming Zombie Apocalypse, but still...) Most of the things I thought I'd get done this week while I had the time remain undone. Sheepie hangs her head in shame.

For what it's worth, I finished the stupid Mittens 'o Shame. But that hardly seems to make up for the sloth.

Deep, Dark Secret The Fourth:

You know what? It really does feel good to confess! In fact, it feels so good that I'm going to confess on behalf of another. I want everyone to feel as clean of soul as I!

Half-Priced Candy Day began on Monday and I fear I was a little over-enthusiastic. I always say I'm going to keep things within reason, but it's hard when you're faced with a whole table of half-priced goods. Why I thought I needed a bright pink fleecy throw covered in fancy hearts, I don't know. It goes with nothing in the manse. And I have enough blankets here, Lord knows. But I guess I blacked out for a minute in all the excitement and suddenly I had a hot pink blankie. With a matching pillow.

I don't much care for it, truth be told. It's a little too frou-frou for my tastes. But there is another who loves it. Someone who fancies himself a real man's man. Someone who names himself the Protector Of The Household and Lord Of The Manor. Someone who, in my opinion, clashes with bright pink and has no business swaddling himself in it.

Err...I can explain...um...

He's going on and on about how cats are color blind, but that doesn't explain his being so attracted to the heart pattern. He just doesn't want to admit that he's gotten in touch with his feminine side, is all.

He's feel better if he just manned up and spoke true. There's no shame in pink hearts. I wish I could say the same about new toilet seats...

SA