Sorry about the lack of posts recently. I could tell you why, but you wouldn’t be impressed. Actually, I don’t need you to scorn me for the way I live. How dare you!
I had a lot of issues last week about the state of the house. Our house usually fluctuates between cluttered and filthy, but for whatever reason, the house was downgraded last week to squalid. Malcolm’s clothes were strewn everywhere, my March Madness brackets appeared to become our new carpeting and we had so many piles of laundry lying around various parts of the house that we could no longer tell what was clean and what was dirty. 
Of particular concern was the kitchen scrap pail we use to collect food for composting, which hadn’t been changed in a few weeks and looked (and smelled) like Jabba The Hut’s rectum. (I had a hard time with the capitalization of that last part. Is “The” his middle name? Or, should it be Jabba the Hut?)
So, it should come as no surprise that last week we had some unexpected visitors in the midst of the the house turning to shit. Our neighbors came over to play, and as soon as I saw them, I realized how bad I was about to look. I tried the shoo them away, but my neighbor made it quite clear that our kids were going to play with each other and that we were going to drink a beer. The promise of alcohol on the immediate horizon softened the emotional blow quite a bit, and I just grinned and beared the intrusion into our domestic ineptitude.
The humiliation of displaying our dirty bits to the world should have spurred me to clean up our house, but sadly, it didn’t. Of course, I got a phone call on Wednesday that they wanted a photographer to come over and take photos for an upcoming newspaper article about stay at home dads like me. (Don’t worry, I’ll shoot a link here when it comes out and you can see what the rest of the world thinks of me and my little “lifestyle decision.”) “Holy cannoli!” I thought to myself, “How they gonna take pictures in here? There’s shit EVERYWHERE!!!!” My mad dash to try and pick up the evidence of our relaxed rules toward cleanliness was thwarted only by my overwhelming desire to finish all of my March Madness brackets, which means I did more picking than cleaning. So what if Malcolm’s socks and underwear were on the floor of the guest bathroom, right? Socks and underwear line the floor of every house. The photographer finally got there with the house somewhere between crowded and muddled, but I took solace in the fact that I finally got around to cleaning Jabba The Hut’s rectum.
Wait, that didn’t sound right.
I gotta make some changes.
Go Cornell!
Tags: messiness
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why do think I postponed until Sunday?
No way our house was presentable on Friday.
I think the past tense of bear is bore, but “grinned and bore” doesn’t sound right either, so how about “decided to grin and bear”.
Hilarious post! Rarely am I actually L-ing OL when I type it but I’ve been reading so many funny Dad(dy) Bloggers lately that it’s f’real. LOL. Thanx, Chris
Hilarious. My wife always wants to know why I won’t wash dishes daily. There are other things to do and they aren’t going anywhere! These people who do dishes and clean every night hurt my brain. Cleaning is for a) when someone is coming over announced or b) when the wife threatens to throw me out if I don’t.
Thanks Chris and Dev. Glad you enjoy the filth.
BTW while I was here reading your response, I glanced over to see the “Pablo Sandoballs” Malcomism and L’ed OL again. F’real! You two are some funny guys…