Clutter Clutter Everywhere

The cable chick (or guy… how should I know?) is com­ing by this after­noon, and I just real­ized what a fuck­ing hell­hole I live in. Now I don’t par­tic­u­lar­ly care what the cable chick thinks, but it would be nice if this place were semi­presentable for human habi­ta­tion. To that end, I’m doing some clean­ing and declut­ter­ing. It’ll still be a big mess, but I’m hop­ing I can get this up to just a mess instead of a mess so bad that it becomes cable-installer lore for years to come.

I’m post­ing this because I’ve men­tioned before that I don’t date much, or at least I nev­er go beyond a first date. Well, there are two rea­sons. First: I’m always broke. All my friends can attest to this. I’m always bail­ing out of plans because I don’t have the mon­ey. So I fre­quent­ly catch myself before ask­ing some­one out and reflect on the eigh­teen cents I have on my desk at home and how that’s not enough to buy a cup of cof­fee, nev­er mind din­ner and a movie. You can say that mon­ey does­n’t mat­ter – yeah, right. It’s not attrac­tive to be a thir­ty-three year old guy who can bare­ly sup­port him­self, nev­er mind kids.

But the oth­er rea­son is that if things start to get too heavy, then at some point she’ll WANT TO SEE WHERE I LIVE. Which is total­ly rea­son­able, I mean, who would­n’t be curi­ous about where the per­son one is dat­ing lives. On the oth­er hand, holy shit! This place is not hab­it­able. Some­times I get bursts of ener­gy and things start to get cleaned and it looks like a nice hap­py place. Then there are the oth­er 50 weeks of the year.

So basi­cal­ly I have two very good excus­es not to ever let any­one near me. Hooray for the Internet!