Sunday, October 02, 2005

Hoo-Hoo Hoo-HOOW!

Today I cleaned the apartment CSI-style. And by that I mean I got into all the little nooks and crannies and swept up all of Robyn's and my DNA-laden hairballs. I also mean that I used lots and lots of bleach.

Although — will those crazy criminals ever learn? — using a gallon of bleach wouldn't have helped me out if I'd actually committed a crime (really, the crime here is how disgusting our apartment's gotten). But seriously. Everybody knows all those crafty CSI guys have to do is spritz some of that spray-bottle stuff, whip out their nifty blue lights, and, voila!, case solved. So really using bleach for crime-related cleaning purposes just ensures that the Las Vegas crime lab will hunt you down with just a twinge less alacrity.

See? I'm learning by watching TV. I've learned how to be a more effective criminal (should all moral integrity — and my insane queasiness around blood — one day evaporate, that is). I've also learned that I would make a terrible crime scene investigator. Not because of aforementioned queasiness (although that probably would hold me back a little, huh?), but because of the hairball thing.

On CSI the team always finds one hair. One. Hair. And it always leads them to the suspect. Every time. Here's how things would go down if I was a CSI:

CSI: I found a hair! We've totally got him!
Erin: Nope. Nooo. That one's mine. Sorry.
CSI: That's OK, we've got another one right here.
Erin: Uh, yeeeah. Also mine.
CSI: This huge wad of hair in the corner?
Erin (sheepishly): Heh. Would you believe me if I said it wasn't mine?
CSI: I'm gonna need you to go ahead and wear this hairnet.

And then I'd be the CSI with a hairnet. Not cool. Especially in light of the fact that the third thing I've learned from CSI is that looking fierce on the job isn't just acceptable, it's encouraged... maybe even necessary.