Here's a lesson to all procrastinators when it comes to cleaning...
Attack of the Killer Dust Bunnies
This is a true story. Names, dates and places have been omitted to protect the innocent.
Every New Year, I manage to avoid the chore of spring-cleaning by closing the door to my room when people come visiting and glowering around the closed door like a gargoyle, muttering "No entry...it's under construction..." But Fate does not spare everyone all of the time, just some people some of the time. Ten years after I have given my room walls a coat of "Misty Lavendar", it is time again for the inevitable painting job with the "house colour", "Apple Green" or more like "I-Don't-See-Any-Green, Do-You? Green". Which means moving every stick of furniture I have away from walls, sweeping of all cupboard tops and more cleaning than I have done in a decade.
I did not even notice their presence as I was too absorbed with flinging a feather duster around the room. But suddenly I felt my skin tingle, as if a presence, no, an entity, was watching me. And the vibes I got were not of the loving-kindness sort.There it was, lying where it had fallen off the back of my wardrobe. The largest dust bunny I have ever seen in my life. Years of neglect has contributed to its size, and the way it was rudely evicted made it mean.
Both of us did not move. I was terrified, as I never knew something this large shared my room for a decade. But what filled me with revulsion was that I helped it grow. It was as much a part of me as I was a part of it. It was a manifestation of my sloth.
I know it could have consumed me. It was ready to. Its tail, formed by human hair, almost certainly mine, quivered with rage. But while it was still gathering itself, my mum's Super Broom and Dustpan Combo vanquished it. It disappeared into the chute, giving the Beggar Boy who resides there and feeds on our leftovers a tremendous scare.
The battle is not over yet, I know. At this every moment, as I lay exhausted from cleaning the lesser dust bunnies, another monster is forming in the most inaccessible corner of my room. And one day, when again I disturb its slumber, it might not be so forgiving.
Attack of the Killer Dust Bunnies
This is a true story. Names, dates and places have been omitted to protect the innocent.
Every New Year, I manage to avoid the chore of spring-cleaning by closing the door to my room when people come visiting and glowering around the closed door like a gargoyle, muttering "No entry...it's under construction..." But Fate does not spare everyone all of the time, just some people some of the time. Ten years after I have given my room walls a coat of "Misty Lavendar", it is time again for the inevitable painting job with the "house colour", "Apple Green" or more like "I-Don't-See-Any-Green, Do-You? Green". Which means moving every stick of furniture I have away from walls, sweeping of all cupboard tops and more cleaning than I have done in a decade.
I did not even notice their presence as I was too absorbed with flinging a feather duster around the room. But suddenly I felt my skin tingle, as if a presence, no, an entity, was watching me. And the vibes I got were not of the loving-kindness sort.There it was, lying where it had fallen off the back of my wardrobe. The largest dust bunny I have ever seen in my life. Years of neglect has contributed to its size, and the way it was rudely evicted made it mean.
Both of us did not move. I was terrified, as I never knew something this large shared my room for a decade. But what filled me with revulsion was that I helped it grow. It was as much a part of me as I was a part of it. It was a manifestation of my sloth.
I know it could have consumed me. It was ready to. Its tail, formed by human hair, almost certainly mine, quivered with rage. But while it was still gathering itself, my mum's Super Broom and Dustpan Combo vanquished it. It disappeared into the chute, giving the Beggar Boy who resides there and feeds on our leftovers a tremendous scare.
The battle is not over yet, I know. At this every moment, as I lay exhausted from cleaning the lesser dust bunnies, another monster is forming in the most inaccessible corner of my room. And one day, when again I disturb its slumber, it might not be so forgiving.
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