One day on, one day off; that seems to be my work schedule. Yesterday was an "on" day. Tired of beating myself up over things not done (I'm my worst critic) and using heat, etc., as an excuse for doing even less, I attacked the living room with gusto. I dusted, swept, even moving furniture to vacuum behind, and replaced a slip cover. This is the season for hyperactive spiders and I destroyed cobwebs everywhere. I'm always ambivalent about that, knowing that if there are webs, there is an abundance of insects for spider food and I'm just as glad to be rid of them, but don't want the rooms to look like Miss Havisham's creepy house ("Great Expectations," Charles Dickens). Bess attempted to save me from myself, telling me periodically that it was break time and that "we" needed to go rest on the deck for a bit (and who am I to argue?). Finished, it was rewarding to sit and look at polished wood and burr-less carpet. That's the thing about housework, though, it won't stay that way for long.
It will be interesting to see if I can maintain this burst of ambition and go for a two-fer. Or not.