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Don’t try this at home: Five tips to save your sanity while working at home

When the time comes and you decide to work at home, please follow these fool-proof tips. I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but this fool didn’t and now I wish I had a Fairy God Mama who would have pointed me in the right direction. There is nothing worse than having your clothes hire a SWAT negotiator to get them out of your closet and into a safe house.

Number One with a bullet: For the love of God and everything we hold dear in this world, do not, I repeat, do not buy sweat pants for comfort while working. You can be just as brilliant in your own damn trousers! I fell under the spell of “well, they are kind of cool black sweats and I did not buy them at Wal-Mart and I could even go walking with them on” line of crap. I don’t care if Giorgio Armani designed sweats for his couture line. Do not wear them at home while working. They do have their place – putting laundry in, cleaning out a litter box or 5 but if you sit in front of your computer for 12 to 18 hours a day, you will develop a HUGE butt and don’t get me started on locating the land where small waistlines go. You need to feel the cold, hard metal of a zipper against your flesh each day of your life.

Number Two: Get outside everyday. Regardless of the weather, open the front door, crack open a window and escape. Don’t put it off until later in the day because you know damn well you won’t do it. Don’t wait till the cops show up because the neighbors thought they smelled something funky coming from your house. You don’t need to read your obituary in the paper. They always put a picture of you with in your eyes closed. Take the cat for a walk.

Number Three: Cleanliness is next to impossible if you don’t bathe. I could write a book, but I am in the shower. Finally.

Number Four: If the green mold on the bread starts to bubble, call the Hazardous Materials hotline number. These guys could use a good laugh and who knows maybe you’ll get invited out to lunch. I would just suggest that someone else taste the food.

Number Five:
Oprah’s Final Season. And try as you may, you can’t just unplug your computer and move it to the bedroom to watch Ms. O’s 25th Season. Why don’t I have a lap top? Silly, I work at home now and my 401K just had last rites…again.

So now I will keep on working in heels with a fully made up face and 2 pairs of Spanx. As God as my witness.

The Rolling Stones’ Keith Richards and Me: Separated at Birth.

I want to come back as The Stones’ Keith Richards in this lifetime. Just in case I am scheduled to back as a frog in my next life.

I mentioned this to The Husband and he threw up a little in his mouth. He is used to me making proclamations that others would not dare to dream, much less utter, but perhaps he needs to hear me out. So sit back and be ready to be dazzled by the likes of Keith Richards – guitarist to the second best rock and roll band that ever existed. I got to give The Beatles their props. I think Keith will understand that.

I have not read Richards’s memoir “Life” (it is sitting in a pile by my bed) but I have seem him being interviewed recently and I want him and his family to come to my house for Easter. Okay, my sister’s house. I don’t cook. I get to make a salad. I am told my salads are legendary. Because I can open a can of black olives? Aim higher, people.

Okay, back to Keith. Each interview I have seen on him leaves me wanting more. My first “ahha” moment with Keith was when he talked about being drug free for 30 years and yet no one will let him move on. Ah, Keith, allow me to introduce you to my family. I did things when I was 16 that they still talk about. I am not going to tell them about the Nobel Peace Prize I won this year. It doesn’t compare to what I did at as a teen. So I get that, Keith, I really do. Ironically, I wrote OD first. Which you are not doing anymore.

So I plan on having a party for all of us poor souls that people determined would die young. Pssst….We are still here.

When asked what his big regret in life was – it wasn’t dancing with heroin or any other self destructive behavior he exhibited. It was not being there when his two month old son, Tara, died. You saw the sadness in his eyes and felt his deep regret. That made me want to put my arms around him. He was a father still mourning a 34 year old loss.

So now at the age of 66, he tends to his garden in CT., grows lemon trees, and comes clean about Mick Jagger being a royal pain in the arse. Based on his findings I withdraw my petition to sleep with Mick. I like it when men remember my name. Yeah, like Mick would forget me.

And finally, what I really like about Keith Richards is this:

He gets to walk around in all his glory. The last time I saw wrinkles like his they were on an elephant.

I think his face is a message to all of us women – show your history – line by line.

Of course, he is not a woman. See you all at the plastic surgeon’s office. I am going for the Keith look.

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