The Stash-n-Dash post I wrote the other day was really a reminder to myself. With all the cookie excitement in the last couple weeks, the kitchen actually looks pretty darn good--having a small kitchen actually forces me to keep things up, otherwise I wouldn't have the space to work. And since the area is so small, it doesn't take that long to clean up. So I'm good on the kitchen front. And the living room isn't exactly terrible. The bedroom could be better. The guest bath is sort of an embarrassment. As for the rest of the place: it's pretty much gone to hell in a handbasket.
I could, at this very moment, grab a bucket and the mop and get at least one chore out of the way before going to bed tonight, but I'd much rather speculate as to why a handbasket is the vehicle of choice for going to hell. What could it possibly offer, aside from certain alliterative qualities? But then why not go to hell on a Harley? Or in a Honda? What exactly is a "handbasket" anyway, and how does it differ from the garden-variety baskets you get at places like Pier One and World Market? Do you get to choose your own handbasket, or is that part of the punishment--to get stuck with some god-forsaken monstrosity that doesn't even have a liner? Or worse: a plaid liner. With a clashing bow. And your name embroidered on it.
Once you get to hell, can you get rid of the handbasket already? Or are you stuck with it forever, like a bad nose job? And what if you get a second chance? You never hear of anyone getting out of hell in a handbasket. This seems to imply a rather limiting, one-way quality regarding the navigational feature of handbaskets. What's up with that? Can't you upgrade to a two-way model, just in case? Or have I just identified a potentially huge market? Because let's face it, it's easy to let things go. But don't we all deserve a little redemption? Don't we--and our homes--deserve a second chance?