30/11/12

madrobins: It's a meatloaf.  Dressed up like a bunny.  (citibit)
Avocado/Becca has a tendency to, um, a messy room. It had got to the point of looking like a post-Hurricane scene of destruction, except rather drier. She decided, earlier this week, that it HAD to be cleaned up. Would I help. Yes. Could I get started before she got home after World Affairs Council at 8:30? By myself? No. What if she paid me? Sure, kid. The rate is $20/hour. OKAY!!

So I gave her two hours last night, got the room tidy (if one does not inquire too deeply into her dresser, where she has in past clean-ups tossed everything she didn't want to deal with), vacuumed, and brought down the garbage and the two laundry baskets of unfolded but clean clothes to fold. She did the dirty laundry and found homes (again, best not to inquire too deeply into the dresser) for all the loose papers I found, and the room is astonishingly navigable.

This morning I feel a little bit like I've been hit with baseball bats. How do people who do this for a living survive it?