Currently my aunt is at the house. She came over to have breakfast, and the plan is for her, my dad, and me to “clean the damn house for once.” Dad’s been talking about it for weeks, and I can’t blame him. We don’t do much deep cleaning around here, and you could write your name in the dust on the coffee table. Last night I started in the kitchen and spent a few hours. There was a sheet of baking soda on the cabinet shelves so thick it looked like a couple of cocaine dealers lived here. If there were any more cobwebs on the light fixtures, we could turn this place into Disney’s Haunted Mansion.

Of course, I’m exaggerating.

Now my dad and aunt have taken a break and are watching their soap opera, Days of Our Lives. (My aunt doesn’t like Chad’s new mustache.) Both of them are quite serious about this show. If one of my dad’s friends calls between one and two, he gets so pissed. “Don’t they know my soap is on?” That’s what my grandma used to call it–my soap. Like she personally had something to do with it. Dorothy Coker, Executive Producer. Anyway, she’d say, “Marcus, I watch this show because it makes my life seem normal.” I guess since this was a benefit she could obtain without getting out of her chair or putting her teeth in, it was a pretty good deal.

The phone just rang. Dad, of course, isn’t happy about it. “Every day, somebody calls during the soap opera!”

Dad’s on a real tare today. Before I could even stumble into the kitchen and get myself vertical this morning, he told me he wanted me and “someone” to go to the hospital where Mom’s been getting chemotherapy and sing and dance–as a thank you for saving my mother’s life. Apparently there’s a board at the hospital where they tack thank-you cards that people send the staff, and Dad wants to stand out. And whereas I appreciate his thinking out of the box, I’m not exactly thrilled about the fact that he wants to pimp his son out in order to show his gratitude. “Couldn’t you just send a cookie cake or some balloons?” I said. He practically rolled his eyes. “Everybody does that.”

Now the soap is over, my aunt’s dusting, and Dad’s got the vacuum cleaner out. My assignment is to clean the bathrooms, so I really need to wrap this up.

Last night was the final improv class, which was a performance. Honestly, I was super impressed with the kids. I guess there’s something about the pressure of an audience that makes everyone rise to the occasion. Anyway, in the thick of the whole affair, my friend Aaron, who teaches the class, introduced me as on of the instructors. Ian and Summer, the other instructors, were there, and people actually clapped for us. I told Summer, “I’m just a student. I feel like a fraud.”

Well, as if that weren’t enough, Aaaon, Ian, and Summer, invited me to join their improv group, The Razorlaughs, this evening for a private Christmas party. Of course, this invitation terrified me, but it also excited me, so I said yes. So this is another reason I need to get on the stick and finish cleaning the house–the show’s in a few hours. Daddy’s got things to do, places to go, people to see. As always, I’ll let you know how it goes. Until then, I’ll be giving myself pep talks.

Be funny, Marcus. Be funny.

I guess some things never change. Friends will always call during your soap opera, parents will always volunteer their children for things they don’t want to do, and dust will always be a part of life. But other things do change, thankfully. After months of not cleaning, your family can link arms and spruce the place up. You can spend a semester or your whole life as a student, then in one night you’re a teacher, or at least ready to say goodbye to the classroom and say hello to something new. The hope of something new–this, I think, is what each new day brings.