a visit from the woman who gave me life, and subsequent years of advice- dutifully ignored- on how best to wear my "you have such a narrow face" hair, kicks off some serious extra credit housework. *
forget polishing the silver and dusting off the 'just for show' china; cleaning the calcified layers of green gunk from the electric toothbrush and wiping pico de gallo fingerprints off the tv remote become the topmost priority. and so i found myself vacuuming the dust colonies that had settled pueblo style, amongst the fireplace brickwork- dog hair is harder to get rid of than a palm full of ringworm.
swiffer brand needs to hurry the hell up and manufacture a collapsible, disposable 'get-down-on-your-knees-and-scrape-the-black-gunge-out-of-the-skirting-board-to-the-sounds-of-kc-and-the-sunshine-band' appliance.
* the occupant who logs the most hours sitting on the loo, should automatically win the task of chipping all the caked bits of bodily excreta from the porcelain. **
** this never happens.