Vacuums, Vagaries & Violence

Ethel was busy, so she sent her (slightly better dressed) evil step-sister, Hattie over. Don't let Hattie's apparent joie de vie fool you, though. A black and sinister soul lurks beneath that smiling-while-dancing-with-a-vacuum mod/hipster facade.

Hattie doesn't mind that I'm writing. Au contrair! She thinks it's a fabulous hobby, wonderful fodder for the cocktail party scene. But Hattie thinks I should really wash those dishes first. Cluttered sink, cluttered mind and all that. And oh my, the bathtub certainly could use a good scrubbing - maybe let those cute little scrubbing bubbles work so you don't have to! She doesn't seem to understand that those little scrubbies have gone the way of Mr. Whipple. Or that I don't give a flying rootie tootie about the soap scum today.

Aargh! I'd shove her into the refrigerator, but she'd just point out that I need to clean out my veggie bin. Bitch. I think I'll unplug the phone (sorry, not available for coffee and/or conversation today) and lock up all the cleaning supplies. Take that, oh evil mistress of cleaning doom...