I feel like a Robber Baron of the Gilded Age as I shout to my lights to turn off and go on and set themselves to ridiculous intensity levels like, “ALEXA! Put the lounge lights at 17%!! Hurry!” Instead of complaining, the lights just go to the requested level and a shot of glee courses directly through my body. It’s like having a household staff that is either made up of ghosts or is so efficient that they are never noticed. And I fully understand how unnecessary it is, truly I do, but I’m never going back. I want to remove the light switches from my house. They’re superfluous now and ugly and I don’t want them bothering my aesthetics!
I have a doozy of a story to share with you today. Martha Stewart is one of the icons in my life that I look up to every single day. If I can ever be a bit more like her, I’ll find a way to do that. Whenever I’m tidying and redoing my house, I’m thinking, what will Martha think when she comes over? It’s absurd, reader. Martha is never coming to my house for lunch, but I terrorize myself into order at the thought of it happening. This has been a commonplace scenario in my mind since the summer of 2008 when I saw my first episode of Martha’s daytime talk show.