Don't even think about it

This morning I decided to take a few minutes before I made lunch and run the vacuum around.  My previous vacuum blew up a while ago and I replaced it with a Shark Navigator; a bagless dynamo that I adore.   I thought it was picking up WAY more dirt than the old vacuum had and I soon realized, with intense shame, that all carpet is just basically dirty and now I could SEE that every several days I was sucking up a double handful of hair, dust, crumbs, etc.  Eeeww.  Sometimes at night, instead of peacefully sleeping,  I think of all those years I went a week [or four] [or longer in tight spaces or empty rooms] without vacuuming because the carpet still looked clean.  But it wasn't; it was loaded with disgusting crud, of which I was blithely unaware.  If there is a heaven, I will not be allowed in because I was oblivious to the cruddy carpet.

Where was I?  Oh yes.  I decided to vacuum and then, because I had seen a dust bunny lurking under the edge of the refrigerator, wrapped a rag around the yardstick to chase out the bunny and any of his friends and relations nibbling on the dry cat food that had sneaked under there too.

The rag-wrapped yardstick wouldn't fit.  But my refrigerator has little wheels and is relatively easy to roll out of its parking space, so that's what I did.

My little project began to expand to fill the time slot previously assigned to making and eating lunch.  Because of course when you have ample time to do something and approach it with all the necessary supplies and equipment and are dressed appropriately and have already eaten a satisfying meal, the next thing that happened, doesn't happen.

On top of my refrigerator is a pickle jar filled with kombucha tea mother.  It is Lillie's edible pet and lives there quietly, peacefully growing thick layers of gelatinous mushroomy blobs.  (Sounds delicious, right? She likes it and doesn't serve me any, so I don't care.  Remember when you used to keep a Tupperware bowl of sourdough starter on your counter?  Like that.)  She has another, bigger kombucha mother that lives on the counter that she replenishes and drinks the tea; but the fridge-top pet is, I guess, a spare which we ignore most of the time.  Until today.  When I rolled the refrigerator out it must have startled the jar, which panicked and leaped to its death, shattering on the floor and splattering big slithery kombucha blobs  and broken glass across the layer of dust bunnies and dry cat food.

The whole house instantly smelled like a distillery. Yeasty and vinegary.  Powerful.  Fortunately today is warm so I opened all the windows.

I scraped up the swampy layer of glass shards, bunny wads, cat food and kombucha  flop.  I washed the whole floor and wiped the walls and cabinet doors.  I emptied the trash, which smelled like a salad.

Her priorities will change when she realizes she has slivers of glass in her knees.

Since my fresh-this-morning yoga pants were already wet and dirty, I decided to clean under the stove, washer and dryer, and then I mopped the laundry room and both bathrooms.  Since the floors were clean, I sprayed and wiped down the sinks, counters and toilets, and then gathered up a load of towels and my yoga pants and started the washer.  And the dishwasher, which was full.  (If you give a mouse a mortgage...)

All I originally wanted to do was a quick vacuum.  The most discouraging aspect, aside from being extra hungry, is that everything looks essentially the same as before, but it's two hours later.  Lillie was able to rinse off a few of the grimy kombucha blobs and turn them loose in a new jar.  We've elected to keep this one in a cabinet.

There are no pictures of this adventure because at the time I was not having much fun, or technically any fun at all, and who wants to see pictures of me not having any fun?

I'll be on the lookout for photo opportunities that feature me having a big old time.  Like splash dogs.  Nobody has more fun, ever, than splash dogs.

This splash dog,  Josh,  didn't even place but he didn't care because he was having the Best. Day. Ever.