So yesterday, I came home from work (at an hour when most normal people are going TO work), took Chuckweasel’s unemployed ass around doing errands (love ya, baby!), then proceeded to come home… and CLEAN THE APARTMENT UNTIL PAST THREE O’CLOCK!
I may be a pod person.
Seriously, I am the Queen of the Fuckits: you know, “Fuckit, I’ll do it later,” and “Fuckit, I’m taking a nap.” In fact, I had actually said to myself. “Fuckit, all I am going to do is throw some underwear and socks in the washer so I have clothes for work this week, and then I’m gonna play video games all day.” (Note: I have pants and shirts clean already, I do not just go to work in underwear and a pair of socks, it’s too cold.)
So riddle me this, dear Batfriends: How did it come to pass that I looked up to hit “PAUSE” on Syfy’s “Star Trek: TNG” marathon to discover that it was 3:15pm and I was pausing Captain Picard so I could run the vacuum? And then looked around the apartment to find I had done a load of laundry, washed dishes and loaded and run the dishwasher (yes, I double-wash, I told you I was a little OCD), cleaned the catbox and swept the kitchen floor! I HAD CLEANED THE HOUSE AGAINST MY OWN WILL! How does that even happen? I remember I kept saying, “I’ll take a break as soon as I…” and doing some other chore, then doing another one and another one and another one… then saying, “okay, I’ll just finish this up and then I’ll stop,” but I didn’t stop! Finally I MADE CHICKEN STIR FRY (yes, more activity!) and sat down to watch TV… with a strange sense of combined accomplishment and confusion.
Whoever that girl is who possessed me yesterday, I hope she comes back to finish up!
hoodyhoo 