Didn’t have quite as productive a day as yesterday, because I was in bed till almost noon, but I’m making up for it now. Just finished cleaning the living/dining room, much to feline consternation—wait till I remove the sofa cover to wash it.

There is definitely something wrong with me. Normally I don’t enjoy cleaning or seek it out to do it. Sense of impending doom? Like always wear nice underwear in case you’re in a car accident?