Nothing accompanies procrastination like a rousing game of For The Love Of All Things Holy What The Hell Is That Smell In The Laundry Room, unless it’s the sequel game Should We Replace The Carpet Or Pray ServPro Has A Coupon?, or maybe the roleplaying game I’d Love My House To Not Smell Like Ass.
For the record, there was nothing in the laundry room to create such a stench unless there is a portal to hell I missed and trust me, I vacuumed long enough in there I would have noticed. A portal to hell would certainly explain the smell. It’s the dog. And while ServPro has deodorization services, I’m afraid this may be past their assistance. The carpet down there was iffy when we moved in, the dog made it worse the last several months, and summer heat is going to make this place a gas chamber without a great deal of intervention.
But procrastination. What doth I procrastinate? Name it. Thinking. Doing. Sending emails. Anything with an “ing” ending and action verbs. I haven’t wanted to <action verb> in any way, shape, or form lately. So today I cleaned and organized the laundry room so I could
find that portal to hell and solder it shut do laundry without gagging at the inside of the washer. Yesterday I crashed out on my bed and read a magazine; in my defense, I’d just survived a 2 1/2 hour ALL BOY PARTY OF OVER-SUGARED ACTIVITY (at least it wasn’t last year’s solo hosting of Go The F*ck To Sleep). Perhaps tomorrow I will learn why the inside of the coat closet smells like death. Can’t blame the dog for that one, she doesn’t hang her coat in there.
A little non-computer procrastination is good for the soul. At least my soul. Something in the house is now clean and doesn’t stink
much. Perhaps now I have the mental and intestinal fortitude to forge ahead on some action verbs.
Yes. I shall go <action verb> now.