No I do not want to vacuum your room. You can vacuum your own room. Or at least you could if you could afford your own vacuum cleaner. Because I don't like you. I want very little to do with you. The only times I converse with you and attempt to maintain a state of civility is when I do it to make fun of you along the way. You have made me not a nice person and I don't particularly relish the transformation, I assure you. Gah.
Minor note: she also decided to go about half-dressed, so I received a wonderfully full view of her sagging ass and crotch as she waddled through the halls. There was some shuddering, and a horrifying thought of the possibility of that happening to my ass. o.o (Yes. In the face of that horror, I can be as shallow and fat-obsessed as anyone. Glargh.)
However! In other, more happy news, I'm in the middle of packing! :D Yay, I has an unofficial vacation to the wild hinterlands of Toronto proper! Exciting, innit? I will have to break off the celebrations a little when I have to call up my boss to discuss a few things--namely the good half-dozen emails she's sent me in the past few hours. But after that, everything should be good. Yes. Yes indeed.
And now instead of saying that I'm in the middle of packing, perhaps I should actually get to the part where I actually pack. And then afterwards, perhaps I can even manage to get some sleep! An exciting prospect, that.
SHE'S BANGING ON THE WALLS. NOT EVEN HER WALLS. MY WALLS. KILL. KIIIIILLLL. CLEAN YOUR ROOM IF YOU WANT, WOMAN, BUT STAY IN YOUR BLOODY ROOM LIKE THE GOOD LANDLADY TELLS YOU TO!