Wake me up...

So Sunday dawned bright and chilly, and yours truly felt like taking on the world.   And why would this be?

Well, all of a sudden, for the first time in two weeks, yesterday morning I was able to notice mess.  Why is it that all this has been invisible to me since Christmas Eve?  Was I moved to an alternative accommodation while I was in my drug fuelled stupor?

Of course not....it was a sign that I was on the mend, and that Things Needed Sorting Out.

When I get one of my Cleaning Frenzy Faces on, anyone within a five mile radius of the house would do well to either swiftly depart, not turn up at all or pitch in.  Thus was the lot of the poor husband yesterday morning.  The first thing I was wanting to get my hands on (probably should have started a new paragraph there before you start wondering just how well I actually was) was the new vacuum which was sitting in the laundry gathering dust (thank you Tim Vine for this joke - I will dine out on it for years).  

So a quick perusal of the instructions and a cursory whiz around my bedroom, which has resembled the set of The Bone Collector for the last ten days, such is the level of squallor I have been living in.  Bed sheets changed, mattress turned (husband's job) and once again, it was a peaceful space and not Bay 9 in A&E.

With the steroids pumping through my system, I then set to packing away all the Christmas waffle which we seem to accumulate over the festive period.  You know the stuff, napkins, strange looking raffia hearts covered in ribbon, a wreath with a flat battery (I know how it feels), cheese crackers and a spare Christmas pudding.  All sorted, discarded or packed away as I ran through the house stirring up a host of lazy dust bunnies languishing in corners.

OK.  Let's be honest.  I managed to keep this up for exactly two hours and seventeen minutes.  With only two rooms done, it was a very small achievement by my standards,  and by lunchtime, I was done in, looking at my bed with a new found love, but knowing that entry was forbidden until at least 9.00 later that night.

So the afternoon was spent on the sofa trying to recover from an hour's light vacuuming.  I've taken to wearing a sleep mask to avoid being able to actually see the state the lounge is in, which means that the husband will need to guide me through the hall before reaching the comparative sanity of the kitchen, whereby I can then remove the mask and delight at my shiny surface (I only managed one before I ran out of steam).

I have one of my followers to thank for this sudden burst of energy.  She advised that all of my steroid tablets were to be taken in one hit rather than eked through the day, so I snaffled the lot at breakfast which naturally turned me into Wonder Woman for a couple of hours.  The downside is that I resembled a tea swilling, sleeping, 5'6" slug for the rest of the day.

But two clean rooms?  What's not to like?



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