"Gamma Mu? One word: Bitches."

16May07

When the phone rang very early this morning, I was doing what I would normally be doing at that time…

Dancing along to my DVD of STOMP THE YARD.

I was just getting to the part where —

OK. Fine. I wasn’t really doing that.

I was sleeping.

And, although the details are quickly fading, I was in the middle of a dream. I know that I was married in the dream. And I was very happy about that fact. I was also impressed with what I was wearing. And I had a new baseball cap. It was red. Maybe my dream wife bought it for me. Who wouldn’t be happy being married to a woman that buys you baseball caps?

Now I am totally going to want to buy a red baseball cap all day.

Or get married.

Where were we?

The phone call. Right.

It was my uncle the carpenter/handyman/apparent early riser. His schedule had opened up and he could replace the chimney today. My initial reaction was “Replace it with what?”

For some reason, said chimney runs through my bedroom closet. Thank you, 1960s building practices.

So, this process was going to involve me cleaning out my closet.

Just another thing that Eminem and I have in common.

– We both have a history of trying to revisit past relationships. (Though I think we’ve both learned our lessons there.)

– Neither of us would ever dis our own mama just to get recognition.

– And, of course, the mad rhymin’ skillz.

The good part about cleaning out a metaphorical closet is that it isn’t full of dust. Sure, there can be a crippling flood of emotion, but still…

To say that I ran into dust bunnies would not begin to do them justice. These were dust brontosauruseseses. I can’t be sure, but I think that they had created their own society. There was a clear leader and the beginnings of a rudimentary language.

If the birth of Dustapotamia wasn’t enough of a clue that it had been too long since I had cleaned out my closet, some of the items I stumbled upon certainly drove that point home.

I found a robe from two girlfriends ago.

I found the proud remains of half-finished screenplays.

I found a remote control truck.

I found baseball cleats. (I can’t be entirely certain when I last wore them. But, I think the timeline would be something like… 1) Wore cleats, 2) Princess Diana died, 3) Built Y2K shelter…)

I found a box of matchbox cars. (I am pretty sure that I’ve used them since I last wore the cleats.)

There were some other pieces of amusing crap, but my brain is too foggy to recall. For someone with allergies, buttloads of dust, plus regular spring pollen… well, it’s not conducive to, you know, thinking and junk.

Oh, for the record, I totally had to look up that STOMP THE YARD quote for my title on imdb.com. I’ve never actually seen it.

It’s true.

Don’t you judge me.

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