Beep? Burp.

When I first moved into my very own apartment, on the Upper East Side, no less, in the early 1990s, I couldn't figure out how to get things done. Like, how was I supposed to be at work and at the same time have the window cleaning guy come to wash my windows? Certainly I couldn't leave him in the apartment alone, because you know, he could steal my perfume and hide in my closet and dismember me later that night. Which now that I think about it, seems like a fair trade for clean windows, but I did not have this wisdom back then.

So, I solved that problem in a way that I've solved most problems in my life--I asked my parents for help and and mama said that she would stay at my apartment and guard my Soap Opera Digest and Ravioli Maker and possibly save my life.

Sadly, mama and the window guy did not hit it off. I think it was because window guy assumed that mama, since she spoke with an accent, was the cleaning lady. I'm sure the fact that she read a magazine while he worked made him think that she was a really lazy cleaning lady to boot. Mama, for her part, didn't take to the window guy because he was drunk. I can't remember now what the tell tale signs of inebriation were, but for argument's sake, let's say that it was a Budweiser can with a straw in his back pocket.

He washed all the windows except for the kitchen windows and when she asked him to do that one too, he refused. "Why?" she asked. "Because I'm tired, that's why," he said. And maybe burped.

What I love about this is that I think we've all been there. Don't want to do something--home, work, wherever because we're tired. No fancy excuse necessary. No explanation. Tired.

Which leads me to my update about my efforts to get a driver's license. I have the social security card, but still no learner's permit. I didn't even look at the DMV site this week to go over the sample questions. Why? Because I'm tired. And if you give me enough time, drunk.