what does procrastination sound like?

It sounds like sister K vaccuuming out her car, dad practicing scales in his closet (which is, incidentally, on the other side of my wall, so I can hear it all, loud, clear and trumpety). It sounds like my little macbook keys clickity clicking as I type this blog instead of cleaning my room. I'm going to be a terrible mother. I hate cleaning. And when you have kids, you have  to keep your room, your husband's room (also yours, but like his half) and your kids' rooms clean too, until they are old enough to clean. And the rest of the house, in case guests pop in. I am ok with the rest of the house part. In our apartment, generally speaking, I was good at keeping the kitchen, bath, living room etc clean. But my room? Fugghetaboudit. No man wants to marry a messy room gal. Whenever there was even a slight chance of a guy being over, I would clean it. But I would have to maintain cleanliness as a wife and mother. Boo. And it isn't clean. I don't like being filthy. I am, however, messy. And I have a tendency to hold onto things as memorabilia and that clutters things up. The question is, do I marry someone who is really neat and will do the cleaning or do I marry someone messy? Because the neat guy might freak out on my sporadically for being a slob. But the messy guy and I would never pick up. I guess I would have to have a guy on the horizon for that to even be remotely plausible. 

In other news, Irish fest was damp. And full of guinness drunk folk. We saw a sweet ass irish band play, and at irish food, and then came home. Not thrilling. Mom and sister K got things, I couldn't find something I wanted (what I really wanted was a Donegal shirt, but NOOO). Then I had rehearsal. Which was.....the same. I need to memorize me some lines. Like seriously.

Today. Walmart. Always interesting, though today I didn't see any particularly heinous people. I wanted to go to Mystic to a lingerie store, to try and get some silk and/or satin camis, because I like old fashioned-type camis a lot, and I think they'd be the only place to have them. No where else seems to. But now I'm tired and lazy and have to finish my room, so perhaps tomorrow (if they are open). Mom and Dad got invited to a friend's for dinner, so unless sister K stays over and we rent films and eat, I will be alone with the dogs, again. I really want her to stay, but we shall see. Her social calender fills up faster than a fat guy at ponderosa. Boys and dates all the time. I told her, perhaps she could find me someone to go on a date with. Mom said "that is what I was thinking". Gotta love it when the entire family thinks you need to go out on a date. I haven't been on a real date since...since my last real boyfriend. Like two and a half years ago. Unless you count going out for drinks with an older supervisor whom I ought not to have gone out with, and who ended up kissing on a first date, and waaaaaay too intensely. but I don't count that. Because it was shady and awkward. So yea. I guess I should get out there and try to date. Suggestions for how to go about this are welcome.

And now, to finish the room. Which looks like a recycling plant due to my overabundance of vitamin water bottles littering the floor. Ugh. I'm gross. later alligators.