Potato Bugs happen while you’re looking the other way

Published August 18, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I still don’t know what’s going on even when I am trying to pay attention. My brain has been particularly windsocky  lately (Worlds Worst Asian Fusion Restaurant and Micro Brew.)  This is to be expected since I am post project and two damn lazy to clean my filthy house in order to start the next project.

What I should be doing: Cleaning my office so I can rearrange things, vacuum and get set up for my fantastic birthday present from my grandmother: A new laptop.

I am very spoiled, but sensible and I know if I set up the new shiny before the office is clean, I will just burrow a tunnel in the mess and my Amanda Friend will have to bring a posse (you dumb horse) to drag me out whilst I make wild swipes at the smudged screen. (My new shiny is a touch screen, because I am spoiled with the latest technology.)

What I should be doing part 2: Going through the heaps of clothes piled on the spare bed. They have been there since early summer because I was supposed to be revamping the entire closet system and streamline my wardrobe in an effort to be more efficient and more of an adult than I have been, well, ever. I got derailed by the big suck that was the last week of June and just never really recovered.  Things need to be sorted, discarded and ironed.

What I should be doing part 3: cleaning the damn kitchen so I can restock in an effort to feed myself. I WILL NOT BUY PLASTIC CUTLERY TO AVOID DOING DISHES. (I have to say this to myself so I will actually follow through. Yes, I can feed myself around a mess, but I really shouldn’t because I was going to make myself a baked potato and some vegetables for dinner, but when I opened the potato drawer, I was greeted by the kind of odor that one usually finds under a carpet on which a leaky soda fountain has been resting (Trust me. I know this.)  Some extra squishy potatoes and some bugs and other demons had taken up residence on top of my stockpile of paper Target bags. The bags and potatoes are gone and I doused the drawer with a liberal dose of Fabulosa. (The cleaning solvent of my people.) act

So to comfort myself and actually root myself in the reality that no cleaning will or should happen past 6 PM on a Sunday, I had a glass of excellent wine (Also a spoil of Grandma.) and  mini-bag of cheezits. I watched a Lifetime movie that actually made me tear up.

I blame the potato bugs

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