Yesterday was a lovely day so I decided to spend most of it indoors and cleaning my house. I have a house guest coming for a night and don't want to give the impression i live in total squalor (partial squalor is ok). Actually, this is the sort of friend who I've known for a long time and understands my disdain of housework, but still, I want it to look nice for her visit. This means cleaning off the dining room table (I think the last time anyone actually dined on it was probably her last visit several years ago), moving things where they should go, and vacuuming. Oh man. Vacuuming. i don't mind vacuuming really, it's picking up things I don't like. It's the notion of cleaning top to bottom so I don't have to vacuum more than once per cleaning spell. I decide it's time to vacuum, look around at all the pre-vacuuming cleaning I need to do, give up. Repeat.

Right now the word vacuum probably has no meaning, you're questioning if it's even a real word. don't you hate when your brain does that?

But yesterday, oh man, I don't know what came over me. I even cleaned the window where Denny sits. It's a futile effort to be sure--I know that as soon as I windex the dog drool he'll just redroolify it. Still, it looks nice right now and that's what's important. I haven't really cleaned the kitchen or the upstairs yet but getting the living room done is a gigantic step.

So I'm feeling accomplished and the weather's warm so I decide it's high time to sleep with the window open, one of my favorites. Oh, sure, I haven't done this in a while because of my loud neighbors but that's ok, they seem to be out or calm or both tonight.

so around 3:30 in the AM I am proven wrong, that crazy doesn't have a "quiet time." i tried hard to hear the arguement (shut up, you know you would too) but couldn't really discern any specific words, except for the four letter one that starts with f. Then he sets the car alarm and it goes off. Denny is downstairs and lets loose a single bark (may have been bad dreams). All that lacked was some terrible rap or country music blaring and police sirens for it to be the best night of my life.

Labels: homestead, neighbors