I must, absolutely must clean my hovel. My parents are coming over, as it is the Fledgling Sparrow's birthday tomorrow (she will be 15), and my house looks like Miss Havisham's, but without the elegance. Very appropriate for Hallowe'en, if it wasn't for the carpet of dog hair.
My parents will be positively appalled. I mean, not that they haven't seem it messy, but still. My mother will shake her head sadly, sure that my blogging is ruining my life. As if I had a life?
It's their fault, anyway. Why am I not a rich trust fund brat? Spoiled rich girls pay someone to clean for them.
We have had the Santa Ana winds here, and everything is covered in an inch of dust and dirt. I hate the winds; 50 mph, a constant breeze blowing through my house (even with it closed up), and yet still I have a cloud of dog farts hanging over everything. Not only that, we're at 9% humidity, and I feel like Cassandra in Dr. Who: "Moisturize me, I'm drying out!"
I had better get to the cleaning. See you lot later.