Cleaning House

This past weekend was fun. Friday night I thought I was going to see a friend’s band. But the truth was, I was much too tired. It had been a rough week. My stalker has started to calm down, but going to the cops at the start of the week is never fun. The fact this man obtained my information off the internet still makes me ill. The friends around me have stepped up though which makes me feel good. Then there was the (former) friend who went off at me, blaming me for everything that is going badly in his world. It could never be something like his drug use. Why take responsibility when you can  blame someone else? Oh and then being snubbed by another former friend, one who was slated to be a star when we were in school who isn’t working. Again, why blame yourself for being lazy when you can pin it on someone doing the work. For serious. Of course there was the entanglement with the old flame who felt the need to start in the middle of the train station.

Yes I was tired.

So I started cleaning. Friday I tackled my bathroom and the common room. It wasn’t the old throw it in the closet and hope for the best routine. I actually swept, scrubbed, and dubba dub dubbed. At first I felt like shooting myself. Why was I cleaning? A clean house is a sign of a misspent life I used to tell myself. To me, people who were neat and tidy were as annoying as shit not to mention repressed in every way possible. However, when you are walking around and there is glitter on the carpet not to mention you can’t find anything and are tripping worse than a college freshmen on acid it’s time to make some changes in your living space. Plus Mordecai the Magic Mouse was beginning to get a little too comfortable.

Time to clean.

Like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice I wanted my mops and brooms to come alive. However, there was no such luck. After much cringing, I had the ego deflating experience of cleaning my bathroom. After the bathroom I started on the common room. Both tasks drained the living freaking life out of me. Of course there is my bedroom. Should I just throw my damn costumes in my closet and hope for the best, only to mess it up when my boss calls me for a delivery?

No.

Instead I organized my clothes, my costumes, my makeup and everything else. Translated, for once in my filthy, freaking life I know where everything is and I feel good. I have been sneezing less because there is not as much dust in my apartment. There is no glitter on my carpet anymore. Sharon Needles has taken her street fight elsewhere. Although me and the lady have never met, I am sure she would love the statement of the glitter war on my carpet.

Sigh. Tuesday. My book comes out Friday. I am like a kid at Christmas. Except my mother isn’t telling me that everytime it rains I am making Jesus cry and Santa doesn’t like fat children.

Just kidding. I do that sometimes. But I am excited about my book. So excited that I think you should buy it. Go to www.webuybooksontheweb.com or call 877-buy-book to order I Came, I Saw, I Sang this Friday at 2PM EST.

Love,

April