Cleaning Day
It's cleaning day.
Probably just make my bed.
OK, I'll sweep too, and maybe run the dishwasher.
But I'm not hauling out my wacky old vacuum cleaner. Using it is like battling a beast with tentacles from the darkest parts of hell. It has a mind of its own and likes to twist here and there, destroying just about everything in its path and sucking up all kinds of things that are supposed to stay where they lay.
I can hear it humming, even as I write this, because it wants out of the closet.
It must be hungry.
It's cleaning day.
Probably just make my bed.
OK, I'll sweep too, and maybe run the dishwasher.
But I'm not hauling out my wacky old vacuum cleaner. Using it is like battling a beast with tentacles from the darkest parts of hell. It has a mind of its own and likes to twist here and there, destroying just about everything in its path and sucking up all kinds of things that are supposed to stay where they lay.
I can hear it humming, even as I write this, because it wants out of the closet.
It must be hungry.
