|
she· verb
|
07.12.03
I save my house cleaning for 9:00 PM on Saturday evenings--not because I'm friendless and have no other plans, mind you. In fact, I turned down the opportunity to see some chick flick rentals this evening, accompanied by martinis and my best bud here in Florida, in order to be home. Alone. With Endust, Tilex, a sponge and a vacuum. Have you any idea why? Can you imagine? Of course you don't know why. Let me clue you in. It is because of WUFT, the local NPR station. Unspeakably lame at all other hours during the week (aside from the staples; Morning Edition, All Things Considered, Car Talk, Thistle and Shamrock, and Hearts of Space--they don't even run This American Life *sniff*), they air Soul Circuit from 9:00-11:00 PM and Nothing but the Blues from 11:00-1:00 AM on Saturday evenings. While Soul Circuit doesn't play true Chitlin Circuit Soul like we had in Chicago, with the DJ's conversatin' and articulatin' all over the quiet parts of the song, it's close enough for me. (Grazin' in the grass, is a gas, baby, can you dig it?) In fact, during the breaks between songs, the college kid who runs Soul Circuit greets us breathily and with surprise as though us listeners either woke him up or interrupted him during a private moment before he tells us what's coming up next. Colleen, however--host of Nothing But The Blues since we moved to Gainesville--rocks my little housecleaning butt. She. Is. Aawwn. All the time.
Shelves are dusted, floors are not only swept--but mopped, counters, stovetops and bathroom surfaces are scrubbed. It's a clorox-freakin'-frenzy by the time Colleen hits the air. And she takes requests. God bless her. By midnight on Saturdays, my house is so clean you could eat a meal from any surface located therein. (Unless that surface is one of my dog's butts. I don't clean that area, they do. And honestly? I wouldn't trust them for a second--I've seen what they put in each other's mouths. So crazy 'bout you honey, may seem selfish as can be, even live in the poorhouse, if it was just for you and me, when we move way out on the outskirts of town, way from all your family who keep hangin' 'round . . .)
|
