Bored?

I really have nothing interesting to divulge today. Nor do I have anything remotely cute to show you. I'm simply tired of cleaning.

I hate how, in order to clean, you have to make things even messier. I had a very organized sort of mess in my habitat. I knew where things were, I just had to dig a bit to find them. Black sweater? Yeah, it's right here, under this pile of shoes.

But now, everything is strewn about all willy-nilly, and I probably couldn't find that black sweater if it had a freakin GPS beacon blasting a "come hither" signal away to some far off satellite, which, in turn, blasted a "hey dumbass, it's over here" signal back to my brain. Yes. I believe this is how that sort of thing works. I should work for NASA. Or the CIA. Or something.

Oh well. I'm off to dive back into the swirling black waters of mess-death.