home.
home.
the 5 month long international promo tour is over (even though i have promotional stuff every day this week, ok, it’s a semantic play on ‘over’.
don’t rain on my parade, ok? i’m home. not in a hotel. that’s nice.)
and what does an international public-figure musician do upon his return home? does he:
a-go to a strip club?
b-go to a trendy restaurant and meet up with fabulous people?
c-find the nearest scientology ‘celebrity center’?
d-clean his apartment and mop his bathroom floor?
yes, the answer is ‘d’. i’ve got prunes on the tips of my fingers from cleaning my bathroom. but now it’s clean. and all of the assorted crap that has piled up over the last 5 months has been boxed and bagged and sorted and brought to the garbage/recycling center in my basement. it’s still not clean in my house. but it’s a lot better than the pig sty that greeted me upon my return. and there was some really disgusting stuff in my fridge.
some green thing that might have been a cucumber at one point. a jar of pasta sauce that had grown a beard of mold.
etc.
tomorrow i mop and vaccuum. vaccuum first, then mop. i’ve got a new-ish vaccuum that i’ve only used a few times. it’s cumbersome but it could suck the paint off of, well, something that had been painted.
and because of jet-lag it is 4:30 in the morning and i’m not even a little bit tired. uh-oh.
but enough about me.
how was (were) your weekend(s)?
time to go find something else to clean.
-moby