An Open Letter to Oprah

Dear Oprah,

What gives? As a teacher, I look forward to summer vacation for three reasons: first, I like to read. Next, I get the chance to clean even more obsessively than I do during the school year. And finally, finally Oprah, I get to watch your show. I don't know quite how to say this, Ope. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but man, what a let down. So far we've had murderer confrontations, past lives, YouTube stars, and Suse Orman. Blech!!! Where are the house makeovers?? Where are the people makeovers? Get it together, Oprah.

Love,
Casey

In other news, I am a cleaning MACHINE. This is both good and bad. It is good because, well, I really like it when the apartment is nice. It is bad because for the first time, it's becoming really, really clear that cleaning never stops. No matter how much I do, there's always more. OMG, what will it be like with kids??? OMG. Yesterday, in a very nice two-and-a-half hour breakfast with my friend Jami, we discussed how I worry about things years and years before they are actually a problem. I do indeed. It's become clear that I will soon need to implement an infrastructure to curtail offspring disorder. ICOD.

Also, I can't find the charger to my camera's battery. I wish I had it this week, because I undertook A Major Project. We've recently been in a little bit of crisis mode at our apartment. Books have started to take over. I am addicted to book buying. Bob has his books, and a lot of them, poor guy, were stuck in the garage. Piles were everywhere. It was a desperate situation. So I bought a new bookshelf, and set to getting stuff in order. What a job! You see, this was not just a matter of putting some books on shelves. I HAD to merge and alphabetize. Yikes, that sucked. But it is done, and I am happy. The only problem is that Bob and I can only buy about four more books for the rest of our lives.

Oh, and by the way, it turns out I like Suze Orman. Sorry Suze.