This weekend I

cleaned all the blinds in my house.  My house has twenty-two windows, each with its own set of thirty-four blinds.  White, faux-wood blinds; the kind that get dirty.  Especially when you let months go by without cleaning them.  See, I decided to spend my spare time this last month spring cleaning the bajeebies out of my house, and cleaning the blinds was the last item to be checked off my list.  This is because, instead of starting a project with the most difficult job as I’ve so often been advised, I decided to save the most difficult job for last.  Some people might call it procrastination, but I find that such a harsh word.

What you really need to know here, my faithfuls, is how much I hate cleaning blinds.  And I mean hate.  No font size or style exists in cyberspace to effectively convey the disgust and contempt I feel about cleaning window blinds.  There are no caps LARGE enough, no bold bold enough, no italic slanted enough to make you, the reader, comprehend the depth of my emotion regarding this topic.