BLESS! Oh, that's just adorable. Well done the fella.

Thanks Fay. And good on ya with the iPod. In my not-yet-having an "i" of any sort, I'm thrilled for you. Not so much with the non-flushing loo though. And the terrorism threats...many prayers for peace and safety to you.

Teppy is dating MEEEEEE! Sadly, not really. But it could be me.

Also, the ant issue in this house is getting serious. I've got baking soda scattered around the perimeter of the kitchen and ant traps in the nooks and crannies, but you know what? Having a toddler dropping food everywhere just isn't helping.

Guh. This place is officially gross.

whose apartment was completely PACKED with crap?

My sister's house is like that. I can't stand to be in it. For example, the kitchen has a table with 2 chairs, but there's so much stuff piled everywhere that these cannot be seen at all. All the clutter activates my urge to fix things, so I look at the newspapers on the floor and want to pick them up. I see the dusty toys piled in a box on the coffee table and I want to throw them away. I see random crap stuffed into the bookshelves and I want to play librarian and turn chaos into order so I can find the ones I've been wanting to borrow.

The problem is, I have waged massive clutter reduction campaigns on her behalf, many times. The result of my efforts never lasts, for soon all is frelled up once more. I've given up. I'd rather spend my energy on projects with lasting value.

Perhaps the next gift to ummmfriend should be a roomba? I'm sorry you're feeling poorly, Tep. I'm on day three of no sugar and going through a bit of withdrawal, yes. But I know my energy will be more stable than before once I'm out the other side. Still, why doesn't anyone make sugar-free malted milk balls? Why?

Fay, I'm sorry you are feeling the wist. And the nearness to terrorism. I hope you manage to get some delicious food delivered. Although chocolate covered almond-stuffed dates sound heavenly to me.

Even in my life as a clutter coach, I never assume my efforts will last. Sometimes people improve/change their habits, but mostly it is an exercise in maintaining momentary order. This kind of habit is just such a tough nut to crack.

Yesterday, a good friend asked me to help bring order to a couple of places in her house. She sheepishly inquired about how 'bad' it was. I nearly laughed. At least her house does not have rat shit, dirt so thick you can't read book covers, broken glass strewn about, piles so high pets are in danger of avalanche related deaths. Yeah, her house is the picture of tidy in comparisons to some I've clutter cleared.

Sad thing is, sister keeps wanting me to fix up her mess. Of course, somehow I'm supposed to do that without throwing anything away, disturbing anything, or pissing her off.

Her poor long-suffering roommate thinks it's a territorial sort of thing. I think it's a manifestation of her troubled soul. I'll participate during special projects, like party preparation.

I go home from her crap-pile and admire how wonderful my floor looks, all bare and open and not covered with stuff.

I'm supposed to do that without throwing anything away, disturbing anything, or pissing her off.

Oh, this is like me trying to clean up our house. It seems like most of the clutter I can't actually throw away or move because it's my wife's.

At least her house does not have rat shit, dirt so thick you can't read book covers, broken glass strewn about, piles so high pets are in danger of avalanche related deaths.

Hmm. The Boy's house:

rat shit -- no (also no other shit, pet-produced or otherwise)
book covers -- quite readable
broken glass -- no
high piles -- well, some, but he's an engineer, so they're structurally sound

Actually, Beej, that made me feel better. Seriously.

Perhaps the next gift to ummmfriend should be a roomba?

With 2 dogs and 3 cats, I think it would need to be the Dyson vaccuum, which I hear is fabulous for pet-related suckmonstering. (Plus, the animals would gang up on a Roomba and have it dismantled in under 3 minutes. Or, alternatively, the Siamese would hop on it while it was cleaning, and ride it around like it was her royal carriage.)

Since The Boy is an engineer, perhaps he can make the Dyson robotic so it can run automatically on a schedule without him having to remember. Okay, yes, it's a fantasy solution.

I hope it won't scare Fay but my first meal of the day is a Niman Ranch Fearless Frank.