Anyway, the good thing about planning a whole day of cleaning is that it means I'll get a lot of writing done. Because I operate under the Old Switcheroo School of Productivity. Need to get writing done? Plan to clean. Need to clean the bathtub? Commit to a freelance project. It works really well, I'll tell you. Except that my bathtub is somehow filthy, and I've neglected even this blog, more precious to me than all other projects -- except the ones that actually pay the damn rent. Ahem.
So, in an effort to prove to you all that I don't have blogger burnout, I've decided to answer a few reader questions. This of course means that I definitely have blogger burnout, and that it's only a matter of time before I have to hang it up entirely.
Today's questions are from MiamiPRMama, whose profile seems to exist only for the purposes of this blog, and so I won't bother you by linking to a blank page. Ms. Mama recently posted the following comment and questions in reference to my recent exhaustion:
You know, pregnancy can also cause extreme exhaustion. I hope you're being careful.
And I'm sure you're not fat. Whatever happened to the new hottness? Or the dating fiesta? Where are the updates? Feel better.
OK, let's take these one at a time.
Q) Pregancy can cause extreme exhaustion. I hope you're being careful.
A) Yikes, Miami P., keep your voodoo to yourself! The new apartment is bigger than the old one, but it ain't big enough for a baby, that's for sure. Also, I just spent all my money on furniture, and kids are more expensive than puppies, even if they're less likely to pull at their stitches.
Q) I'm sure you're not fat. Whatever happened to the new hottness?
A) The new hottness continues, albeit not as regularly as it should. I figured out that in order to make it work, I'd have to eat less, as well as exercise. This is a drag, but I'm seriously vain, which gives me something like will power. (Otherwise, I have none.) So I've been cutting calories. Bleh.
Q) What about the dating fiesta?
A) The fiesta is quite festive, although New York is not helping my two-month relationship limit. This place gives you dating ADD, for sure. Although, I had a great talk with my old pal Horowitz yesterday about this, and she said that in her opinion, two months is how long it takes to figure out that you're not really into someone. For example, not so very long ago, I fell madly in lust with this one guy, only to realize, two months later, that: he couldn't spell, hadn't read anything since high school except the TV Guide, and smoked more pot on a daily basis than the entire population of Jamaica. Understand that I had convinced myself that we had a deep spiritual connection. This was based largely on the fact that he had a very soulful expression, I felt. It took two months to figure out that he wasn't contemplating anything. He was just squinting, because his eyes were dry from pot fumes.
So there you go. Updates! And now if you'll excuse me, I have to wander back into the bathroom and try to convince myself to clean the tub.