In Which I Audition For A Reality Show

I don’t know why I get the e-mails that I get. Some of them seem too good to be true – secret shopper opportunities and large Target gift cards included. Others are press releases that have little to do with me (“U.S. Prepares Secret Charges Against Dictator X”). Some are entirely in Arabic.

However, when a little e-mail popped up in my inbox a few months ago asking if my home was cluttered and I needed help, I decided to respond.

I disdain clutter. I am a neat person. We have known some hoarders, so my mother is the anti-hoarder. This is a trait she has passed on to me. For everything that comes in, something goes out, and the only thing I’m sentimental about is cards and letters. If you come over and don’t see something you gave me, save yourself the pain and don’t ask, but know I appreciated the thought.

Unfortunately, someone I care very much about doesn’t worry about clutter as much as I do. When you throw in the fact that we both work from a home that’s less than 1,000 square feet, well, there can be issues.  

I wrote a couple of sentences back to the e-mail. The sender wanted pictures. Within five minutes of sending the photos, this e-mail arrived, “We want to talk to you.”

We chatted on the phone, I sent more photos and I got another e-mail reading, “We’d like to send a producer to your house. Does tomorrow work?”

I wasn’t sure whether or not to be thrilled (free stuff for the house!) or ashamed (I’m a reality TV producer’s dream).

Also, I’d done all of this while the SO was out of town for work, so I had to call him and tell him what I’d been up to. You know that phone call, when you tell your SO that you’ve been scheming to have his house made over (TV crew included) while he went away for the weekend? Pretty standard stuff.

“Have you heard of the Style Network, honey?”

“I guess,” he said.

“How do you feel about being on it?”

When the producer came over to do our interview and take a tour of the house, she and I had a 45-minute interview. She and the SO talked for 10 minutes.

Beyond the “how do you feel about the clutter?” questions, there was “Is this the man you want to family with?”  “How would you feel about someone else coming in and telling you what to do with your space?” and “Is this a deal breaker for you?”

That’s when I had another realization: I was the source of drama for this television production. They either expected me to argue with the SO about the house or argue with the organizing team about my house. I was their Omarosa.

I could complain, but whom are we kidding? If someone is going to bring drama to a housing renovation, it’s going to be me. I can bring drama to a lunch for the mute. I like to think of it as passion, but I could be wrong.

We took two and a half hours of footage, I sent more photos and there were lots of phone conversations, but unfortunately, we didn’t make the cut. In some ways, it’s nice to know people need more help than I do. In other ways, I really, really wanted free stuff.

Also on the plus side, I appreciate that the SO continues to put up with my shenanigans, and on the negative one, there’s a tape out there somewhere with a whole lot of me bitching about binders and photo equipment.

* This is not one of the photos I sent of my house. I don't do plants.