When I woke up I had no inkling that the day would involve a lot of cleaning.
It began with my weekly trip to the Laundromat. While my clothes were spinning around in the washer, I looked out and since it was nice and sunny (but a bit chilly due to the strong wind gusts) I took my car to the car wash. After throwing my clothes in my dryer I then went to work and took care of my needy research plants (did some "cleaning" there, too). Then I picked up my clothes and, rather than go home, swung by the department. I moved back into the building late last year but never got around to unpacking all my 18 (yes 18!) boxes of books and office knick-knacks.
My office mate took one look at all the stuff I had and promptly went home, clearly realizing that the office was going to be a maelstrom of activity. Three hours later here I am, sitting at my desk and admiring my shelves that are no longer barren (photographs shall follow in a few days; keep watching this space).
And lest you think I am done for the day, I still have to go home and finish cleaning my apartment. So dear reader, the vacuum cleaner and scrubs beckon. And after all that I look forward to a long, relaxing shower.
What a way to herald a new week. Or is it the end of the last one?
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