I used to spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning house.  I was certain I would receive a visitor at any moment that would pass judgment over the general filth and disarray in my home.  I’m over that.  I’m older and somewhat wiser with three large dogs and two cats living with me.  The mysterious disapproving visitor never showed up.

These days, when I read magazines that tell me how often I should vacuum in order to keep my allergies at bay and not serve pet hair with my meals, I feel a brief pang of guilt and then ...

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Why is it that every time I go on vacation, something goes awry at my house? A couple of weeks ago, I spent a long overdue weekend at the beach with my high school girlfriends. One day into an absolutely idyllic retreat, my ex-husband calls. “There’s water pouring out of your back door.” After a momentary out-of-body experience I calmly replied, “What’s going on?” “Your cut-off valve behind the washer is leaking.” (That proved to be an understatement). Well of course it is, I thought. I’ve been through this drill before. “It’s the hot water valve.” Nice. I was 300 ...

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