It is a truth universally acknowledged that if my house is going to be made presentable in the next 24 hours for a Friends of James River Park board meeting , Pat Benatar is going to have to blast her lungs and my eardrums out on the stereo. I clean much better with music blaring–if much better means at all.

Pat hasn’t pulled her weight around here lately. Not sure who has. She had better get to it. Something about listening to “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” works well with chucking the crap that is everywhere here–and chuckling. I used to blame my children. That no longer works since they aren’t here much, so I just blame my father since things went downhill fast once he died and I inherited his grocery bags of cancelled checks, every bill he ever received, and umpteen binders of financial information that never has the information I need in them. I was tempted to throw the whole lot away, but there were some interesting tidbits in there like the occasional stock certificate or note to someone who recently ran for office in Pennsylvania wondering when she was going to pay back the money he loaned her. She never did–or respond to my emails regarding the debt, but at least she lost the Republican primary.

He could have benefited from the fantastic advice dispensed on the internet yesterday at from Real Simple.  To paraphrase: If clutter is overcoming your home, try shredding documents and putting papers in filing cabinets. Wow. Real Stupid. I’m a freelance writer and I hope whoever wrote that got paid very little for that gem.  Gotta get down to work. Cue the drums and bass: my house is a battlefield.