You are my sunshine

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Actually, I woke up to the stench of rotting food, and that's never a good thing. I woke up and realized that the pots and pans and all the dishes from the past month hadn't just magically washed themselves during the night. And my kitchen was far from spic and span.

My test is LOOMING on the horizon and I couldn't study, because I had to clean or go crazy just looking at my pigsty of an apartment. So I cleaned and washed and disinfected and silently screamed obscenities inside my head. Freaking dirty cup. Freaking bed that can't just stay made. Freaking missing socks. Freaking pile of laundry - why can't clothes just stay stain-free? Freaking rice that had to be wet and go get smashed into my carpet.

I never said my obscenities made sense.

The Boy came over to find me furiously scrubbing away, muttering like a crazy lady with a dark and stormy raincloud hanging over me, and staged an intervention. Slowly he made me back away from the 409, and leave the paper towels where they were. He sat me down, packed up my things, and we left my apartment. We headed to the corner Starbucks, and I got a Java Chip Frappuccino and we sat outside, studying and basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

And after a couple of minutes in that fabulous fall afternoon, I felt so much much better. I was smiling and singing and humming along (badly) to the coffeehouse's Frank Sinatra soundtrack.

Clearly, I had cabin fever, and I just needed to get OUT. I needed some Vitamin D and I needed to change out the pajamas I'd been wearing for forty-eight hours straight. I needed to change up my surroundings - because after three straight days of staring at the same genetic diseases, I was bound to snap.

I also clearly need a maid.