I am not a domestic goddess. I am not even a domestic demi-god. In fact, if the Tribe of Martha ever wanted to sacrifice someone to an artisan, color-coordinated volcano, I would probably be first on their list.

My house is messy. And when I was working from home as a freelancer, I was often able to fight the mess to a draw, but now that I'm working full-time and freelancing, the mess is definitely winning. I always distinguish between messy and dirty -- yes, there are piles of clothes and books and mail from two weeks ago lying about, but it's not like there's rotting food or roaches or anything really gross like that. Of course the fact that I take pride that there's not rotting food in my house (well, not since I threw out those furry strawberries this morning) is probably a big old red warning flag.

At this point I'm just trying to get the house presentable enough that I can hire a maid service. Once, in Seattle, we had a maid come in once a month and it was totally worth the money, except that one month she just stopped coming and we never heard from her again. I like to think that my messy house did not prompt her to flee the city in terror and change her phone number, but I don't know for sure....

It's not like I wasn't raised better. Our house growing up was always clean, thanks to my Mom. We were never the funny-smelling house, and I don't want to be the funny-smelling house. Although I do remember one time after my parents had a dinner party, my mom telling me in a "well they won't be coming back" voice that one of the women had said to her, "This would be such a lovely house if it weren't for the dogs." At which point I think my mom would have been totally justified in kicking her in the shins. But sadly, I can't blame the state of my domestic affairs on Wonder Dog, though she does shed great blizzards of fine white hair that seem to end up everywhere. But the dog hair tumbleweeds are just a symptom of a larger problem here. (I have thought of attaching little Swiffer pads to her paws so she can clean while I'm gone, but I think then we'd just have a clear path from her bed to her food bowl [which she checks many times a day just to make sure it hasn't magically refilled].)

I was heartened to see this story in The Globe and Mail, about how men are now doing more housework. The really alarming part of the story was the accompanying chart, which showed that women on average did 2.4 hours of housework a day and men did 1.4 hours a day. Nearly four hours a day of housework?? This is the average??? When the hell do these people sleep, eat, post on their blogs and catch up on Canada's Next Top Model? I just don't understand, which is probably why I shall never, ever be a domestic goddess.

I have been remiss in updating this, I know, but it has been a busy week. Since my job is temporary, I'm trying to make hay while the sun shines and write as much as possible, but last week there just seemed to be a bumper crop of hay and I was baling hay as fast as I could but the hay just kept coming, not to mention I was having some thresher difficulties and thus the hay baling was quite laborious. OK, I think I've massacred that agricultural analogy quite satisfactorily.

I was going to write a list of good things and bad things that happened in the past week, but then I realized the events I experienced were not so easily classifiable. For example, on Friday I woke up, got dressed, went to work, checked the schedule and noted that I was, in fact, scheduled to be off that day. Oops. So I abashedly said bye to everyone and left. But actually my surprise day off turned out to be lovely, partly because it was a surprise and thus I had not scheduled any boring tasks to do. It was a free day!

Then on Friday night we went to see a "circus cabaret" at the Distillery District, which as the name suggests is an old distillery district that was saved and renovated at some point and now is a very cute pedestrian area with cobblestone streets, brick buildings and cute shops. The first hint of trouble was when the show started about an hour late. The people behind us actually left before it started -- in retrospect, a very wise move. I don't know when the nightmares will stop about the performer who wore a tattered Easter Bunny head as he sang about peeing in the shower. (At which point the spousal unit leaned over and asked, "Did they have auditions for this, or do you think it was just a sign-up sheet?") The real highlight, though, were the two young men who were fire jugglers. Or, I should really say, were in training to be fire jugglers. Because they dropped the fire. A lot. At one point, a flaming stick of fire rolled off the stage and into the audience. I've never laughed so hard while simultaneously fearing for my life before. It's experiences like those that are hard to categorize: bad, certainly, for the quality of the fire-juggling, but thrilling in an oh-god-we're-all-gonna-die-at-the-hands-of-these-bumbling-shirtless-jugglers kind of way.

Recent signs that I am in danger of going native:

1. Yesterday I used the word "toonie" in conversation, completely unself-consciously and without giggling even a little.
2. While writing a story, I wrote "neighbourhood" without flinching. "Practising" still looks plain wrong to me, though, and per cent as two words still freaks me out.
3. I think it's hilarious that Bush calls Prime Minister Harper "Steve." This is a man who, when dropping off his children for the first day of school, shook their hands. I'm pretty sure even his wife and parents call him Prime Minister Harper.
4. Me, on the front page of the Globe and Mail's business section. Woo-hoo!

Today is a very special day in Canada ... Canada Day! July 1 is when we celebrate being Canadian. So to explain this tradition to my non-Canadian friends, I've written a little song to be sung to the tune of Adam Sandler's "Hannukah Song." ("Put on your yamulke, it's time for Hannukah...") So here's how it goes:

Put on your toque and say
It's time for Canada Day
We know Canada is special in every way
That's why we celebrate Canada Day
So when you feel like the only kid in town
From the True North Strong and Free
Here's a list of people who are Canadian
Just like you and meeeeeeeeeeeeee....

Carrie Ann Moss
Grew up in B.C.
Maybe that's where she learned to defeat the Matrix
With fellow Canadian Keanu Reeves
Pamela Anderson's from Canada but her boobs are from the States
Sandra Oh grew up in Ontario and we think she's pretty great
Neil Young and Avril Lavigne rock out in the Great White North
We all celebrate on July 1, that's three days earlier than the fourth
(we beat you!)
You may not think you know many Canadian folks
But I bet you know the guy who played the dad on the TV show Diff'rent
Strokes (whachu talkin' bout, Canada?)
Rachel McAdams-a
Comes from Canada
So does Jeopardy host Alex Trebek
And Captain Kirk and Scotty from Star Trek
You know all about Mike Myers, John Candy and Jim Carrey
But you know who else is Canadian? Puffy "Friends" actor Matthew Perry!
Phil Hartman was from Canada, but now sadly he's dead
Canadian Cory Hart is still alive, we wish it could have been him instead
It's not just famous entertainers who have made it on this list
We've also got John Kenneth Galbraith, a renowned economist

So many famous Canadians, I can hardly name them all
When you look at the size of our country you must admit the U.S. looks rather small
So drink your maple latte
Get your poutine nice and hot, eh
And have a happy, happy, happy, happy Canada Day!!!!