The last two weeks have been packed with rehearsals and performances. My life partner wouldn't know a sponge, a broom or a mop if they rose up and bit him on the ass. Therefore, the house is filthy and messy. Every surface is cluttered, grimy or gritty or sticky or all three at once. Yuck. Double yuck.

And the cupboards are bare. Old Mother Hubbard had nothing on me. So a-shopping I will go, a-shopping I will go, High-ho the dairy-o, a-shopping I will go.

So, dear friends, today's tasks, whether I want to accept them or not, are to chauffeur my husband to his social event and then, while he is off quaffing coffee and noshing bagels, start my laundry engine, and while the swishing and swirling are in motion, attack this house with the implements of cleaning. After grocery shopping.

Oh, rats. I forgot: first I have to go help my elderly friend with her garden. Then come home and do my stuff.

And let me not forget my canine companion, whose hair is falling out in great tufts to mark the onset of summer. Hmmm...maybe I could use her as a great furry dust mop? No, I guess not. And I suppose I should comb her before doing the floors, or I'll just be doing the floors all over again.

I tried to hire somebody to help me with the kitchen--kitchen only, mind you. She came once, and never came back. I have been too busy to look for someone else.

Oh, double rats. I just remembered I have to make up hubby's meds for the week, too.

Ya think I should make a list?