A furious and prolonged act of housekeeping
And so we come once again upon the semi-annual festival of housecleaning. With the assistance of Arcade Fire, various 80s artists, and my lovely cat Gergiev (who sits in the corner eyeing my bucket and sheepskin duster as though they might be toys), I toiled many long hours yesterday upon my bedroom and bathroom. Furniture was polished. Cabinets were cleaned. Ceiling fan was dusted. Scuffs were removed from walls. Baseboards were looked at with long sighs and anticipation, but so far without any actual attention from sponge. Today, the kitchen and office shall be attempted. But first, I must away to eat something, having recovered from feeling rather sick after an ill-timed run in the late morning heat. Furthermore, the stately Gergiev is perched directly in front of the screen, making it nigh impossible to type with any proficiency.