Yesterday I became possessed. I was on some sort of mission,
perhaps it was the hamster-sized spider I had to maim in the bathroom the other
night, or maybe I just felt inspired by Martin Luther Clean Day, but I was a
cleaning machine. I dusted (what?? I know, I can't believe it either), washed
all my bedding and sheets, organized my closet and dresser (got rid of a few of
my muscle tanks), and I vacuumed. I had even just cleaned out the actual vacuum
canister thing because I'm a nut and that seemed like a good idea (I think I
now have asthma, but whatever). So I'm vacuuming everything, under the bed, in
corners, and I moved furniture to vacuum underneath it like an actual real life
adult would. I even used that little hose thing to vacuum under my bookcase,
and as I leaned over to get underneath it, the main vacuum part proceeded to
SUCK MY PONYTAIL UP.
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| Artistic rendering of the event |
I should note for the readers who have never had the
pleasure of meeting me, I have a glorious mane of long blonde hair… great for
pretending I’m in a Pantene Pro-V commercial, not so great for say… getting sucked
up into a Hoover. So as I laid on the
floor contemplating all the poor decisions I’ve made in my life, while flipping
through a Women’s Health Magazine from October 2011 that I discovered under my
bookcase (the only thing I could reach), I realized two things: 1. I can get
rid of my muffin top with 3 simple moves according to that vintage WHM and 2. I
am very bad at being an adult. Eventually, rather than just building a new life
for myself on the floor of my room, I escaped the Red Beast with only a little
dust on me and a minor case of PTSD. Moral
of the story, don’t clean. Ever. Because it’s a trap.
ELISE THE BEAST
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