Erma's philosophy of housework

It seems that Martha Stewart will be hosting the next season of The Apprentice.

It should be an interesting reality series.

The winning contestant will receive a $250,000 salary for a one-year contract. What the Associated Press news release failed to mention is whether the new apprentice will have to pay the legal fees when they learn about illegal stock trading.

Seriously, though, Martha has paid her debt to society. She'll be out in May and ready to hit the small screen.

That will be one show I won't have any trouble turning off. I've never been a big fan of Martha Stewart. I prefer Erma Bombeck's philosophy on home cleaning and decorating.

Like Erma, "My theory on housework is, if the item doesn't multiply, smell, catch on fire or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one cares." Why should I?

The thing is most of the things I find laying around the house multiply -- or disappear -- depending on what it is and what I have planned for it.

Take socks, for example. One pair of socks, over a three-day period, can multiply into 12 pairs of socks if they are laying under the living room coffee table. But put them in the laundry and suddenly those 12 pairs of socks become 15 socks with only three pairs that actually match.

You would think that in our world of disposable diapers, disposable razors and disposable wipes someone could come up with the simple idea of disposable socks.

Of course if I had my way, my whole wardrobe would be disposable, since I hate doing laundry.

I would settle for a washing machine and dryer that could wash and dry the clothes, then sort them, fold them, or hang them up, and put them away. Obviously, I still have a few programming bugs to work out of my automated household helper, B.R.A.D.

The kitchen is my second least favorite place to be. I love to cook, but when it comes to the final stages of getting the kitchen back in order, I can find any excuse in the world to put it off.

Eventually, though, Erma's philosophy does apply to me and the dish rag starts stinking or the caked up oil on the stove starts to smolder and I have to clean.

Every once in a while, the B.R.A.D. unit does kick on to help out with the regular household cleaning -- such as emptying his overfilled ashtray or placing his dirty dishes in my dish water just as I'm getting ready to pull the plug.

Somehow, I think I would have liked Erma. Like me, I think she actually uttered the words, "Sorry for the mess, I've been on the computer all day," more than once in her life.