Bachelorism

I am a bachelor. Okay, I know that's considered to be a masculine noun. But bachelorette just doesn't have the same connotation. Makes one think of someone jumping out of a cake or something. So why have I decided that a: Bachelor is a neuter gender noun and b: I am one? Well it had to do with Christmas. I do a brunch for family. Everybody arrives, I have fun food -- home made sausage rolls always, plus good cheeses, pate, olives of various sorts, something sweet and interesting, not fruitcake (although really well brandied fruitcake has been known to be on the table), you know. Eat, drink, be merry, including ME, open gifts, no kitchen drudgery required. But this involves cleaning the house. Well, cleaning off the table at least, which is my hardcopy workspace, as opposed to my digital workspace, my computer desk. So I have all kinds of orderly (yes, really!) piles of things like the financial stuff for my stepmom's estate, magazines that aren't read yet, manuscript that need that final hardcopy read, critique manuscript, and various things that need to be dealt with not now but soon. And some of these piles have been moved to other available spaces, such as the floor.

So, now it's family brunch time AND I'm getting a new puppy the day after. Well, the obvious thing to do, the one that makes me a bachelor, is to move all piles from the table to the floor, out of sight in my office would be fine. Uh, except for the puppy. So now I have to put away, file, find some home for the piles already on the floor, and then I have to do the same with the piles on the table. And on other horozontal spaces. Good thing we had a nice, week long, serious snow storm that left us all snowbound. I needed it! Cabin fever? Didn't have time. I was too busy taking care of piles.

But hey, it's my house and I'm happy with the pile system. So I'm sure that after the puppy is past the Eat Everything stage and my life once more has order, the piles will return. Good thing I do that Christmas brunch every year!