Humorosity #40

NO AULD LANG SINE ‘ROUND HERE!

(Humorosity #40)

By Honeydew Zubari

Another new year, time to get the old clutter off my desk.

This year I took the job seriously, to the extreme of driving to Home Depot and pricing their faux-milk crates. Between us, the color-coordinated holders were wimpy, wimpy, wimpy; not the heavy-duty boxes needed to control the mounds of papers and other assorted stuff that gravitates to my desk over the course of a year.

What to do?

(Cue the “Mission Impossible” music.) I do a drive-by surveillance of local restaurants to see if there are milk crates piled outside.

Check.

Then I go home and put on black clothes and my tool belt and Ninja mask. I paint my toenails and watch back episodes of “Friends” until dark. Time to head out.

I repel down the restaurant wall, then run like mad for cover, ducking behind stinky trash cans. Then I wiggle through the layer of slime under the dumpster. This allows me to remain hidden while scoping the alley with my pen light in both directions. No cops’ feet in my line of vision, so I slither out and crouch-walk to the crates, which I grab and toss in the hatchback of my waiting car. After speeding home to unload the treasure and shower for a couple of hours, I take the rug cleaner and scrub my driver’s seat until any traces of slime and stink are gone. Success!

“But, yucky! Aren’t the crates dirty,” You run on far too long.

“No problemo,” I answer and then in a snide aside think, especially if you know about a trick involving a sponge, soap and water.

Yes, I’m talking about filling the sink with soapy water then scrubbing the crates with the sponge! Hard to believe someone would think up something that spiffy, huh? And I did it all on my own. How ‘bout them apples?

So, a mere five hours later I had squeaky-clean milk cartons. I lugged them into my office and in a mad frenzy I started filling the cartons. Of course, I brought a trash bag for the multitudes of diet Coke cans and other junk food flotsam hidden among the paper layers. It all became like an archaeological dig.

On top, my Christmas card list; only one of which I managed to get out this year. Under that, my gift list, as in what I gave to whom, so I could keep an eye out for regifting as I made the rounds of parties. Maybe it’s a snarky thing, but I find the whole business of regifting beyond rude. Thanks to spread sheets, from now on when I get a gift from a regifter, they’ll be getting it back next year.

Anyway, that’s the tip of the December iceberg.

Next comes November, with recipes taken from Martha Stewart for homemade everything, right down to the plates and tablecloth. If I had a team of assistants to do my bidding, I could also tat my own lace tablecloth and throw pots and plates on my own wheel, kept conveniently in the garage by the kiln.

Martha shares desk space with spattered recipes from Rachel Raye, whom I love for her simplicity. She believes in cooking from cans and pre-made food. Buffets are great, paper plates even better. Rachel makes parties a joy! The point of having dinner guests isn’t to spend the night in the kitchen, rather to spend it enjoying the company.

Also for November is a reminder to do my Christmas cards early, and not to give a present to…we’ll call them the Kitty-cats…because they’re a family of regifters through e-bay. Now that’s real low, earning money on a gift that in the olden days they’d just give away. Not from me anymore, and the word about them is getting out.

And so we reach October.

Pathetic, isn’t it? And that doesn’t even begin to include the mounds of writing stacked on my monitor and atop my hard drive and underneath my keyboard, which wobbles to the left when I type. into the crates with all of it! I will not sway, stop and read the first sentence of a story and leave it out to work on. NO. The milk crates will be in my closet, I can clean them a little at a time so they’ll be empty for next January’s “out with the old, etc.”

Hey, there’s the “From the desk of” notepad I’ve been searching for all year. Memo to stupido brain: Keep putting it on top of rising piles of junk this year.

Ah, okay. Now I’ve hit wood. The only thing left to do is buy a bottle of dust-repellant; lemony-fresh Pledge is a favorite. With a quick swoosh of spray and flick of the rag, my desk is shiny clean.

May you have a fruitful 365 days of writing this year!