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may 27, 2001.Five p.m. Dinner's on the stove, cooking nicely. Two week's worth of laundry is sudsing it up as we speak. The sun shines, no strings attached except maybe skin cancer. For the first time in an exhausted week, I'm actually interested in tidying up our copious messes. The fact that I get enormous pleasure from these details is a bit confusing, but I'll take it where I can get it. Stacy once asked rhetorically if it was possible to have an interesting social life and keep the house clean, and my answer to that is an emphatic no. At least for me, an embryonic multi-tasker, it's the one or the other. I found the home ec.-themed issue of Bust the best so far. That would scare me if I didn't still cook to the music of My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult. "Be my little human sacrifice!"
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