Stupid Dust. Stupid Dirt.

I’m cleaning the house (my part of it, anyway—which is not to suggest Mr. Shakes and I have a piece of red tape running down its middle on either side of which we play “I’m not touching you!” but instead that Mr. Shakes does some stuff and I do others), and I am absolutely miserable. Cleaning has never been one of my favorite tasks, anyway, but this house has kitchen and bathroom floors that never look clean, no matter how much you scrub them, and, dammit, if I’m going to scrub a floor on my hands and knees, I want it to look bloody sparkling when I’m done with it!

At least the toilets have the courtesy to give me the reward of a gleaming smile when I’m through.

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