Just another Sunday in limbo

Today I feel like a soda. Freezing and full of gas. But I’m kind of refreshing too.
I’ve just completed Operation X-mas Cleaning (OXC), and it was no standard op. I began with the vacuumer and did the whole area, layer by layer, until I struck solid floor. The vacuumer was a bit harrassing, though, always trying to get a good grip on me. What a sucker.

Then I figured out how to mix the Crystal pine-smelling stuff with average hot water, gave it a good stir and found my rod. With the latter I successfully sweeped 2 x the area of my roof. This is something every man has to do to battle spiders. Not everybody considers the roof. Most people just take it for granted. But if you think about it, you realize that without the roof, your appartment wouldn’t have been what it’s supposed to. So you clean the roof too.
Especially if you smoke inside:)

After the kitchen and the hall, when some of my clothes were automagically cleaning themselves in the washer, I realized my status quo, said my prayers and begun on the bathroom. I’m not really sure if I should talk about it. It still hurts just thinking of it. But I did what I could, which is all a man can be expected to, and left the rest to fate (or my roommates).

I also threw out all of the paper garbage.
It’s amasing how much paper four persons use in a month. And most of it is actually mine. Empty pizza cardboard packings, empty lasagna packets, empty packets of this fish you put in the oven that has bread crumbs on it. They were all empty. I checked them all. Nothing. I had to find breakfast elsewhere.

My back is killing me. It was doing that prior to my washing too.
Friday evening, you see, there was the annual Julebord where I work, and everyone shows up – eat good food – and drink a helluvalot of booze. For some unexplicable reasons I suddenly found myself on the dancefloor. I blame my colleagues who, after the Estonia incident, have spread the word about my m4d 5k1ll5 in terms of shaking ass. And it is actually more of a shaking than a dancing, if you consider the fact that what goes on in my head is somewhat misinterpreted by the limbs of my body. A consequence is that I make a killing on the dancefloor. Literally. And now my back is taking a painful revenge.
And it’s not like I can beat it back in place either.

I’m looking forward for dinner tonight, though. Whale beef. Yum.

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