I’m hiding out upstairs in my office; the drone of the vacuum cleaner is making me crazy. I’m usually the maid service’s first clean of the day, but today I’m second and they didn’t get here till 11:15.

It’s too noisy to read; I’ve printed out some documents for our trip, and now I’m so desperate I’m even looking at my twitter account.

For those who don’t know, Twitter is a massive texting service. You “follow” people and then get to read all their inane, mindless texts, called “tweets.” Worse, the people are called “tweeple.”

I find it all so adolescent.

To amuse myself, I started following a few celebrities. Ashton Kutcher fancies himself a big tweeter, and so does Demi. Mrs. Dr. Phil just oozes saccharine. Model Kathy Ireland’s uber-Christian, and her scores of posts per day tell me she needs to get a life. Maria Shriver uses hers to promote First Lady of California initiative. Dame Liz Taylor had tweeple decide on the name for her new perfume (Violet Eyes). Lance Armstrong is posting photos of his new son.

And so it goes… I have no idea how these people have the time to post. No idea. And besides a few inspirational sayings, most of it’s crap.

I could be just too old to appreciate it, but I think Twitter is going to go away, once the novelty wears off.