Sleep. Fifteen hours. Some bad dreams ... and one night terror. But fifteen hours.
A while ago, I started sending myself emails, whilst lying in bed trying to go to sleep. Things to do. Things to write. Things on my mind. It is the way I try to settle my mind down. One of the emails today had to do with cleaning.
Myrtle! Why would you post such a picture??? you ask. Well, it turns out that my beloved new Dyson has an attachment—heretofore unused in the months I have owned the vacuum—that is perfect for baseboards. And, just to show exactly how dirty were my baseboards, I thought I would post photographic evidence, for I emptied the canister before tackling all my baseboards. See! My house might be organized and picked up, but it is most often far, far, far from clean.
The email I sent told me to clean my bathroom and dust, but really, I was telling myself to:
- vacuum both staircases;
- vacuum the first and second floors;
- vacuum all the baseboards;
- clean all the windowsills;
- clean the half bath;
- scour the master bath;
- dust the main floor;
- dust the second floor;
- clean all the silk lamp shades;
- orange oil the inlaid table next to the couch;
- clean out the fireplace;
- take out all the trash (in the blooming snow);
- take out all the recycling (in the blooming snow); and
- water all the plants wintering in the solarium.
Gosh, wasn't I a bit bossy? SIGH. The house is at least clean for the moment, since I keep the kitchen really clean, save for the floor ... but I took care of that last week. I am exhausted, though. Trembling from head to toe. Since Michelle is gone, I took the opportunity to lower the heat since I wouldn't be so hot and sweaty whilst working.
Really, though, it is time to orange oil all the non-painted wooden doors. Maybe next week???
Amos has been bugging me to write on his blog. I hope to appease him this evening ... after a nap or two before the roaring fire. And between trying to keep the sidewalk clear. SIGH.
I am Yours, Lord. Save me!
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