I am trying hard to stay on the maintenance schedule I've set. It keeps slithering away from me. For example, Thursday is normally the day of food buying (including feed for the four-footies). But I worked out first thing Thursday morning and it turned my body and brain to sludge. So I spent Friday covering for Thursday's brainlessness: I generated a shopping list and a to-do list, completely emptied and cleaned the fridge, and then shopped. I even nailed another to-do list item I'd been procrastinating on: writing down the startup/shutdown routines for the house so I stop dropping items. Yes, it was productive, but that's not the point.
Anyway, today is Saturday and that means the grand whole-house cleaning and laundry. Of course I keep getting ambitious, so cleaning the house starts with de-cobwebbing the ceiling. (If this doesn't happen at least every two weeks, the spiders stage a coup and start ordering take-out pizza nightly. It wouldn't be so bad, but I hate moth-flavored pizza.) Naturally, this throws gobs of dust in the air. Naturally, I'm savagely allergic to house dust. *achoo*
It's hard to get over-ambitious with doing laundry, but I have achieved that too: I took the two antique quilts and ran them through the washer. They are drying outside in the sun, now, draped over hedges. (Purists would say they should only be hand-washed in an additive-free detergent like Orvus, but there just aren't enough hours in the day. And I use these things, as they were intended; they don't just hang on a wall to be admired.)
I don't mind doing the work on the assigned day. Trying to cover for incomplete stuff from earlier days is tiring and demotivating, though. (The cattery didn't get done on Wednesday; just the spare bedroom and Rorschach's quarters. So of course it's a mess.)
This is all flicking to avoid completing my resume. And gratuitious bitchiness, compliments of cyclic hormones and the accompanying cramps.