Good idea, Suzi!

Sam Shepard died. ALS apparently. 73 doesn't seem old to me any more.

Dad sent me a picture. Not the person I thought. Which, now I feel horrible that I thought Awkward dude was an addict. And the kid that died is someone I remember as "he was so quiet and nice".

Just a big ole pile of UGH.

Ugh. My air conditioner wasn't working, so I texted my landlord, and he said that he'd call the air conditioning guy. Then, a couple hours later, the landlord came over without telling me that he'd be coming, and I was wearing pajamas (with no bra.) Then he looked around at my apartment and told me that he was concerned that the mess would attract rodents. (It's absolutely not food mess -- I'm really careful about that. It's mostly papers and some plastic bags and random stuff on the floor, which shouldn't attract any more rodents than books would, right?) But now I'm freaking out about that, and I told him that I'd called a professional organizer to help, and he said that was good. Which means I need to get back to the professional organizer that I emailed -- she'd emailed me back and told me to call her to discuss it, but I'm really terrible at phone calls, so I just emailed her again to ask if we could discuss it over email.

But, freaking out now. Because I really never learned how to keep a house clean, but I also definitely learned that letting anybody see a messy house is humiliating.

I also definitely learned that letting anybody see a messy house is humiliating.

It shouldn't and it is horrible he made you feel that way. Personally, when I walk into a house that is absolutely spic and span I wonder if anyone LIVES there. I mean, sure, for certain things, it makes sense, but day to day - I LIVE here.

My cleaners were just here today and it is SO NICE to have someone else deal with all the cleaning stuff I hate. It also makes me be better at keeping the clutter at a minimum.

Hil, your last sentence. So much of my life stress.

ETA And Suzi. I just can't conceive how people live like that, without things and mail and a dish in the sink or a book left out. My brain won't comprehend it.

I also definitely learned that letting anybody see a messy house is humiliating.

I feel the same way. Our house is a mess and smells like a kennel, to boot.

Yesterday, Tim said that when we have our staycation, he wants to have a professional organizer come in to tackle the office (which is a horror out of the Hoarders TV show; I don't let anyone see it, although Hil, you probably glimpsed it when you came over for the GISHWHES photos last year, so if you saw it, you know what I mean).

Anyway, I was really surprised he said that. I had always assumed he was opposed to outside help, while I was secretly wishing we could hire someone. Which proves that I need to stop making assumptions and actually communicate with my husband.

I mean, the rest of the house is a mess, too, largely because we have too much crap in a too-small house with virtually no built-in storage, but that office is unfuckingbelievable. I have to make sure we follow through on hiring that professional organizer.

He also creeps me out a bit. Like, when he's here to check on something, and he needs to reach something that's behind wherever I'm standing, he'll often just reach for it without asking me to move first, and kind of trap me into wherever I'm standing. He's never done anything that's obviously inappropriate, but he's creepy enough that I really did not like answering the door with him there when I was in pajamas. (When he went downstairs to look at the fuse box, I quickly put on the nearest bra and actual shirt.)

He also creeps me out a bit. Like, when he's here to check on something, and he needs to reach something that's behind wherever I'm standing, he'll often just reach for it without asking me to move first, and kind of trap me into wherever I'm standing.

Ugh. That's terrible behavior, and he knows exactly what he's doing. It just has the veneer of plausible deniability ("I was just reaching for the shelf bracket!"). Ick.

I highly recommend developing the counter-habit of pivoting in such a way as to step solidly on his foot. For someone less likely to have the shoulders dislocate, I'd suggest the habit of flailing about with nice sharp elbows - a good jab to the solar plexis or instep followed by a nice, dry "oh I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were right there," might teach him to respect your bubble.