I travel. I travel constantly. I travel five days a week for business, I travel weekends for pleasure. My home is an array of hotels, Hiltons, Holiday Inns or whatever William Shatner hooks me up with. My transportation consists of economy rental cars and cramped airplanes. My friends work at these airlines, hotels and rental companies. My office is any place with accessible electricity and Wi-Fi. My pride is completed tasks, on time arrivals, airline statuses and successful wake up calls. And yet my Dallas apartment is clean.

The last thing I want to do when I am home after three consecutive weeks of travel,( After three weeks of work in Boston, Massachusetts, Mobile, Alabama and Jacksonville, Florida and two weeks with the girlfriend somewhere deep in Montana.) is clean! When I first open that door to my apartment, I unleash the long imprisoned contents of my suitcase and watch as it springs itself free only to rest upon the floors, counters, couch, bathrooms and anywhere else it may land. My never used silverware, used once again, though not put away. Dirty forks, dirty dishes and used napkins find themselves spread all across my kitchen and dining room. My bed a mess once again from use.