Friday, February 03, 2006

Bless This Mess

When Future First Husband said to me, "Your apartment isn't As Messy As I Expected!" I was a little taken aback. Why would he possibly expect Me to be Messy? I wasn't Sloppily Dressed! I Properly Utilized My Napkin at dinner! I didn't even Get Really Drunk and then Totally Sick In The Restaurant Ladies's Room, Requiring Immediate Busboy-With-A-Mop Attention! There was absolutely No Reason for anyone to Expect Me To Be Messy. I figured, Future First Husband must just have Very Low Expectations when it came to Women and Cleanliness.

And then I remembered: Future First Husband is a Regular Reader of The Daily Randi! He must remember The Column I wrote a few years back about Cleaning My Apartment Furiously In An Effort To Not Let Trophy Boyfriend Know I Was Messy, Only To Be Reprimanded By My 1970s Music-Hating Neighbor For Playing My Billy Joel, Patron Saint Of Long Island, Best Of CD Way Too Loud!

Ironically, The Old Column I speak of was all about How I Have A Tendency To Clean My Apartment Right Before A Boy Comes Over -- So That The Boy Paying Me A Visit Will Not Know I Am Messy! Now, I think I ought to devote An Entirely New Column on How I Should Never Write About How Messy My Apartment Is Before Boys Come Over, Just In Case A Boy I Am Dating Reads The Column And Then Comes Over, Post Cleaning! Because, of course, I Cleaned for Future First Husband! In fact, I spent The Entire Evening Before our date Dismantling The Piles Of Stuff! And That Afternoon, when I Got Home From Work, I Got Down To Work! Out came the Vacuum! Out came The Swiffer! Out came The Scrubbing Bubbles, just in case He Needed To Use The Bathroom and spied The Awful Ring In My Bathtub! But, alas, now I realized -- The Cleaning Didn't Matter! I should have just left My Apartment A Total Mess.

Luckily, I think he never read That Other Column about How I Take All My Mess And Purposely Throw It Into My Bedroom On The First Few Dates, Just To Make Sure That I Don't Accidentally Drag Us In There To Show Off My Antique Lamps, My Designer Shoe Collection Purchased Entirely On Credit, or My Naked Body. As usual, I kept the door Closed and we never Ventured In.

Of course, I will probably let him discover The Secret Messy Bedroom Stash one of these days.

But, Thank God: It Really Rarely Matters Anymore by Then.

No comments: