Today, after more than nine weeks, the ladies who clean my house are coming--they were afraid they might expose me to the virus if they had it--which they didn't--but just in case, they quit coming for awhile.  

I can't push a vacuum any more, although I got it out and tried it the other day when I moved all that furniture.  I was able to run it under furniture that hadn't been attended to or moved in a long long time--and then I had to stop.

I got steroid shots with pain killers the day before I tried that for Bursitis in both hips.  Stupid day to try and vacuum because I wasn't hurting right that moment.  Sometimes I think I'm invincible.  You always pay for insanity like that.  I paid.  Advice: Don't do that.

Anyway...I can't wait for them to clean my house.  Actually you would think there would be a foot deep of dust after nine weeks, but no.  You really can't tell it needs to be cleaned.  One little old woman like me doesn't cause much dust.  And my house is air tight.  I've never lived in a house this air tight before.

I have kept the kitchen and bathroom clean--no problem.  So there isn't that much to do.  It's just that I know it needs to be done.  Even though there are three bedrooms and another bath that I never go in.  I could lock them off and never miss them.  Until Becky Bacon calls and asks if my B and B is available.  

Which it always is.  

I often "...entertain angels unaware..."  And try and keep the sheets clean for them.