It is 6:12 am. I have what is likely my nth cup of coffee sitting beside me, and I am slowly rediscovering the amazing thing known as our home. Our new roomie, who is nearly ten years older than me, the toughest lady I know (I may be a Bitch, but she is a Broad - If you read The Devils Panties, you will understand me using that term), a total neat freak, and not someone who is going to let Lad and Best Friend get away with being messy (Well, maybe Best Friend, since he keeps his mess to his room, whereas Lad spreads his from the bathroom to the kitchen and every room in between, although our room is for the most part my wardrobe), is moving in around the same time I get home from work tonight.
Her room is also the room that has served as Loki (Our cat)'s room for the past several months, and my old bedroom with all the stylings of my old room. Needless to say, I am attempting to get everything done before she moves in, including shift all my stuff to either mine and the Lad's room, the living room, or the basement, and shift Loki's food bowls and litterbox to where-ever there happens to be room.
And the bathroom needs cleaning.
She and I are going to tackle the kitchen together, since it is too much room for one person, in terms of mess rather than floor space.
Lad needs to mow the lawn, Best Friend needs to chuck some stuff, and I need to do some serious laundry.
Somewhere in all this, I need to go to the bank, deposit the rent, go to the rental office, pay the rent, and go to work to inflict my highly caffinated being on my poor customers. I wonder if I can actually get Lad to call me in as being sick, considering after I'm done cleaning I am going to be dead as a doornail.
On the bright side, once this is all done I might actually feel secure enough for, once we get us a good big load of groceries, Lad's parents to come by for dinner.
And to take photos of the place to send my parents.
Also, I hate summer, for it is too warm to concentrate.
I think I actually like coffee black better than with excessive sugar and cream. I also think I am running on some sleep deprivation.
I'm a masochist in the name of cleaning...And in the name of a good cropping, but the cropping would distract me from hauling five years worth of Cosmo (I read it for the articles, not the sex tips. Considering what those ladies consider kinky, I considered tame at age eleven) and just as many years worth of memorabilia around the house.