Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Running the World

I’m going to start bagging my own groceries. Seriously, who puts tender mangoes in the same bag as acorn squash? I don’t care if it’s all produce, they belong in different worlds. Put the mangoes in the bag with cheese. Put the squash in the bag with the box of tissues. Put bananas on top of the egg carton; the grapes and wonton wrappers fit nicely together; the apples and oranges can hang out for a car ride home. But do not, ever, put the apples on top of the eggs, the bananas in with the bread, or the grapes with anything that has corners or sharp edges. Do I need to run the whole freakin’ world? Can’t anyone make decisions on their own?
Thanks for letting me vent.
I’m hiring a maid service. I don’t think they’ll wear the black and white outfits, so don’t get your hopes up, but I do expect them to clean my house as if it were, well, my house. One ad I read said, “We’ll clean your home as if it were our own.” Not what I’m looking for. I don’t want you to shove the dirty underwear under the bed, cram the pans into the cupboard on top of the random food bits that hide in the corners of the shelves, or sweep all the crumbs down the air vents. I don’t want you to fill up the bucket with Pine Sol because it smells good and then go outside to play while the smell floats around the house making it smell clean without actually being clean. I want the floor swept before it’s mopped, the bathrooms cleaned behind the toilets and the toothpaste glue to be removed from the sinks without me yelling at you. And I don’t want you to smack my furniture with your vacuum, thank you. Because, honestly, that’s how my house gets cleaned by the majority of people who live in it. So, if the cleaning crew’s house runs like mine does, I don’t want them to clean my house like they do their own. I want them to clean it like I’m a real customer with real needs that really have to be met or they will really be fired. I’ve tried to fire my kids and they just laugh at me. In fact, the 4 year old sticks her finger in my face and makes a rushing water sound. “What’s that?” I ask. “I’m firing you,” she replies. Ah. So her finger shoots fire at people. She will be a useful tool to have when I run the world.
And, when I run the world, there will be none of these tedious fundraisers on public radio. NPR will be quietly funded through a silent campaign that does not interrupt my listening pleasure.
And schools will only be in session from Labor Day to Memorial Day. Give me a week at Thanksgiving and keep your Presidents Day and your Columbus Day. It’s bad enough I don’t get mail those days, but you make me keep my kids, too? I love them through the Summer, I love them on surprise snow days, but bank holidays? Sheesh.
One more thing and then I’ll put the megalomania to bed. When I run the world all the clothing manufacturers will have to size things the same way. None of this “size 10 at Anne Taylor and size 6 at Target” stuff. I want to walk into a store knowing what size I’ll be so I don’t have that embarrassing “can you get me a larger size, please?” encounter with the oh-so-helpful bouncer who monitors the changing stalls. And I don’t want to see any size 0 lurking on the racks. That’s not even a real size. How can anyone be 0? That’s the same as saying “nothing” and if there isn’t anything there, then the body doesn’t exist. And if the body doesn’t exist, she doesn’t need clothes, anyway. So take her clothes off the rack that my not-size-0 hangs on.
And now I’ll leave you in peace while I plot my take over.