I opened the windows for some fresh air and noticed more grit on the windowsills. Ugh. Tackle that later.
After successfully vacuuming the entire second floor, including those nasty corners in the bathrooms, I started on the stairs. More grit. Really? Whoever cleans this joint needs to be fired. Oh wait. That's me. Nevermind.
I was really on a roll now. The first floor was all that remained. Switching out the hard floor attachment for the carpet one, I had only three rooms left; albeit the most gritty rooms in the house. As I lugged the canister from one room to the next it happened. The carpet attachment collided with my foot. Yes, that same foot that was shod in flip-flops. Heavens to Betsy!
My mind cursed my choice of footwear and suddenly FlyLady and her lace-up shoes mantra came to mind.
This was not the first, nor will it be the last, time that I vacuum in flip-flops. Sometimes I even do it barefoot. I know; it's not the wisest choice. It got me thinking about how many times I begin a task simply to cross it off my list, yet I don't prepare for it adequately.
Now that's an ugly, gritty truth. My emotions, good or bad, get the better of me and I'm off and running without much if any thought to a plan of action, much less the best plan. Getting my toes, and my heart, hurt along the way.