It's Got to be Done

I should not be hoisting laundry up and down two flights of stairs, bending to load and unload the machines.  I shouldn't be changing my sheets, nor crouching to scrub the tub and behind the toilet.  I shouldn't be carrying a heavy vacuum up and down the stairs.

But, at two weeks without housecleaning and fresh socks - it's got to be done.  And there is nobody to do it "for" me.  Siddy, un-dainty as she is, isn't big enough - and she lacks thumbs.  As it is, the house is filled with her fur-bunnies, and frankly probably smells more like her than I would prefer.  So.  It has got to be done.  And I'm the only one to do it.

NSAIDs and ice packs, a bit of caffeinne, a reasonable pace, and lesser commitments than a whole-hog deep spring cleaning - and it's finally going to *get* done.  People call me stubborn.  But what I am - is, simply, alone.