"live cleanly as a nobleman should do." king henry iv, part i: v, iv

That's me passing out from cleaning.

You know, if I would just, say, keep up with things around the house, it wouldn't be like this.

But, as a wise man once said, "I am what I am, and that's all what I am."

I wonder if I will ever be a grownup. All the grownups I know have a place for everything in their houses, or at least, it always looks like they do. Organizational systems baffle me. Drawers always fill with junk, bins are never used for their expressed purpose but instead as catch-alls. I start out with such good intentions; I even buy and read magazines like "Real Simple" and think, yeah, hey, that's a good idea, I should do that! It never happens.

Now the place is pretty clean, pretty tidy, and I have to say, it is gratifying to look at a tidy home. But tomorrow, I'll come home and I'll have something in my hands that doesn't have a place in the house, and it will get put on the counter. Then my shoes will come off, and will stay wherever I was standing when I took them off. Then I'll do homework and when I'm done there will be papers that don't quite make it back into my bookbag. Then it will just snowball. I can promise myself all I like that it won't happen. But it will.

Anyway, it's done now and I can relax.

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It seems tacky to me that someone is already auctioning Anna Nicole's old diaries. I struggled with myself over whether to read the article about it, and in the end, the devil on my shoulder won out and I read it. It was depressing. I shouldn't even be writing here about it. More than anything, Anna Nicole made me sad. She was an easy target to make fun of because she was so outrageous, but most of the time she seemed like she was just crying out for someone to tell her "you're ok."

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Well, it's getting to be yawn-thirty here, so guess it's time to hit the sack. Goodnight, Moon. Goodnight light, and the red balloon.