I woke up early this morning, hopped in the shower (well, really, I didn't hop while in the shower, that's a good way to break something, like a hip) and took off in Highway 61 traffic sans coffee, tummy rumbling, to present myself to the phlebotomist at the lab so that she could pierce my flesh with a sharpened chunk of steel and remove my blood.
And as I sat waiting my turn, which wasn't long as there were only two before me in line, I felt sorry for the phlebotomist. All morning long, she has to stick sharp needles into people who have not had their morning coffee.
We must be a grumpy bunch.
Then I came home and had my coffee and once my eyes were properly opened, I had a minor fit of disgust with myself over the amount of dust piled up everywhere. And laundry. So I drug out the Dyson so I could vacuum the rug so I could pile laundry on it - I know it doesn't make sense, but I couldn't put it on a dirty floor. Okay, here is an idea of how powerful the suction on my Dyson is: I was attempting to vacuum one of the cat trees and caught the curtains. The suction ripped the curtain rod off - pulled the nails out of the window frame.
So then, well, the curtains were half on the floor, so I might as well take them all down and take them outside to shake out the dust and fur. Which works great on a breezy day. All I managed to do was cover myself with dust and fur.
I hammered the curtain rod back in place and while sorting through the curtains to put them back up, Thor decided they should be on the floor so he could directly apply more fur.
Now I have literally a mountain of laundry awaiting turns in the washer and dryer.
I think that is all I'm doing today. To hell with the dust.
Thor sez: Look! When I scratch, tons of fur flies all around! How cool is that?