Spring cleaning day (in mid-summer).

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I'm having a cleaner over. I usually do not have a cleaner, 'cause I feel guilty spending the money on something I can do myself, but I just do not have the time (or energy after work) to do the deep cleaning that every apartment needs to get every so often, and now that I am on vacation and ought to have the energy the work just looked so insurmountable that I didn't know where to start.

The cleaner's name is Grace. She's amazing! (Pun intended.) After only two hours my apartment already looks like a place where I can enjoy my vacation in. My floors are glowing! My dishes are all done and the stove top is spic and span. Just these things alone are enough for me to feel like my quality of life suddenly increased a couple of stars. But Grace is going to stay on for another two hours! I cannot wait to see what the end result is going to be. 


In the meantime I need to tidy up my desk and bookshelves. A man's desk is a shrine that nobody else, but the high priest, can enter; and my books are my children--I'm very particular with who I allow to interact with them.