Lisa Scottoline - Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog - The Amazing Adventures of an Ordinary Woman

Right now.

On my Guilt-O-Meter, all housework scores between 1 and 3, except for ironing or cleaning my closet, which are both 0. Recycling is a 10, but rinsing the bottles first is a 2. Working out is supposed to be a 9, but it’s secretly a 5. Accumulating late fees at the library is a 7, but at the Blockbuster, it’s a 2. Why? The former is guilt-inducing, and the latter merely annoying. This isn’t about the Merely Annoying-O-Meter.

Of course, you don’t have to agree with my scores. Use them as guilt guidelines. Feel free to customize your Guilt-O-Meter.

Pimp your guilt!

My Guilt-O-Meter malfunctions during the holidays because there are too many tasks for its sensitive needle. There’s no guilt like Christmas Guilt. Just ask Ebenezer Scrooge. And it’s not only Christmas Guilt. I grew up in a Jewish neighborhood, and when my friends told me they got Hanukkah gelt, I thought they said Hanukkah guilt. Now I have Hanukkah Guilt, too.

During the holidays, my Work Guilt conflicts with so many other guilt options. Not-Sending-Out-Greeting-Cards Guilt is a 6. Cat-Hair-in-Scotch-Tape Guilt is a 5. However, Gift-Wrap-Without-Ribbon Guilt is a 0.

Let go of the ribbon thing, people. We can only do so much.

My Guilt-O-Meter failed me recently, and it was all because of the holidays. One morning, I woke up in a paroxysm of Gift Guilt because I hadn’t bought a single present yet. A paroxysm is off the Guilt-O-Meter, scoring a 283,949. Paroxysms are usually reserved for Forgetting-Your-Mother’s-Birthday Guilt, which I don’t have, or Accidentally-Cutting-Your-Dog’s-Ear-When-You-Clipped-Her-Fur Guilt, which I do.

Anyway, when I woke up in the paroxysm, I knew I had to get to the mall immediately. I hurried to the bathroom, where I noticed that the toilet flushed too slowly. I needed to get it checked, but calling a plumber scored only a 1 on the Guilt-O-Meter. I made a mental note to call him later, then clean my closet and iron something.

I dressed, hurried downstairs, and got a drink of water. Oddly, the garbage disposal was backing up, so I took another Guilt-O-Meter reading. A broken garbage disposal rated only another 1. I figured I’d call the disposal guy after I called the plumber after I cleaned my closet and ironed something.

So I went to the mall, shopped all day, and bought so many presents that my Gift Guilt fell to 0. My Credit Card Guilt upticked to 3, but that’s comfortable for me. I left the mall happy, or in any event, much less guilty.

But when I got home, there was bad news. I’ll try not to be disgusting, so I’ll just say that the toilet had exploded and my first floor hallway was awash in human waste. I called the plumber and told him what happened, and he asked:

“Is it an emergency?”

Hmmm. I knew why he asked that. Because he was taking a Guilt-O-Meter reading of his own, and Exploding-Toilet-on-a-Friday-Night Guilt was only a 2. Especially when it was Somebody-Else’s-Toilet-Around-the-Holidays Guilt.

I bet I reached him at the mall.

For a crazy minute I was stricken with Asking-For-Help Guilt. My Guilt-O-Meter needle shot up to 8, and the wimp inside me said, “Lisa, you meanie, you’re asking him to work on the weekend.”

Then I flipped it.

I work on the weekend, so why shouldn’t the plumber? Work = 10. His Guilt-O-Meter was clearly on the fritz. Anyway, I was pretty sure that if you looked up emergency in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of my first floor hallway.

I told the plumber, “You’re darn tootin’ it’s an emergency, buddy.” Then I put on my galoshes, grabbed the Clorox and a mop, and started cleaning.

So take a lesson from me. This holiday season, let your guilt be your guide.

Except when it comes to plumbing.

Lots of people travel around the holidays, and I’m no exception. I’ve been driving around like crazy, and if I’m driving, that means I’m getting lost.

Luckily, my car isn’t.

I have one of those navigation systems, so my car knows where it is at all times. Yesterday, when I missed the turn for I-95 and found myself in Saddle River, New Jersey, it told me to take two left turns and a right, which set me instantly back on track. It even located me near the rest stop, so I could go to the bathroom. I think it knew I had to go to the bathroom.

In fact, it’s so smart it could probably go to the bathroom for me.

Not only that, if I press a button, my navigation system will tell me where all the other rest stops are in New Jersey, so I have a complete array of rest stop options. After all, I may be feeling more Joyce Kilmer than Vince Lombardi.

I love my navigation system very deeply. It’s always there for me, wherever I am. It asks nothing of me, but does its job competently and professionally. It even has a cute little accent, of indeterminate origin. And though it’s always right, it never says I-told-you-so.

If I could marry my navigation system, I would.

I would even vow to love, honor, and obey it. Because the only times I’ve gone wrong are when I haven’t obeyed my navigation system. In fact, my navigation system is the only thing in the world I will ever obey.

I feel almost as good about my cell phone. The other day I realized that I had forgotten the date of a doctor’s appointment, but I didn’t have the doctor’s phone number to call them and ask. I called 411, but they didn’t have the number either, for some reason.

Luckily, my cell phone is smarter than I am.

It remembered that I had called the doctor once before and it kept the number, even though I didn’t. So I called the doctor and found out that I had missed my appointment.

If my cell phone had had the appointment, it would have been there.

And now there are cell phones that not only remember your doctor’s number, but even have a navigation system. Those cell phones are going to take over the world. I advise you to get one, before it gets you.

My TV is a brainiac, too. I was watching it when all of a sudden a little sign came on the screen, reminding me that I had wanted to record a show that was playing on another channel. Of course, I had totally forgotten that I wanted to record the show, but my TV remembered. Unfortunately, it couldn’t remind me why I had wanted to record such a dumb show. But that may be too much to ask of a TV.

Until next year.

Then, our TVs will record shows that we meant to record, but forgot to. And shows that we didn’t want to record, but should have. And shows that they don’t even make, but they should. Like funny ones.

The other day, I got to thinking about how lucky we are to live in a country in which we are so well taken care of. Our navigation systems, cell phones, and televisions are working hard for us, when we aren’t. They have our lives in hand, so we aren’t bothered. They ask nothing in return. They don’t even resent us when we don’t say thank you.

They free us to do what we want to do.

They give us peace of mind.

This holiday, we’ll all be giving gifts like crazy, tons of navigation systems, cell phones, and TVs. I’m going to be giving them, too, so my family and friends will always be able to see whatever dumb show they want to see. So they’ll be able to talk to whomever they want to talk to, and say what they want to say. And so that no matter where they go, whenever they get lost, they can always find their way back home.