A timeline for all of you to consider:

3:35 pm 12/20: I receive a text message from Big Boi informing me that our landlord will be in at 10 am today to inspect the apartment.

3:36 pm 12/20: I interrupt my sales pitch to drop a double bucket in the unisex Sprint bathroom.

3:48 pm 12/20: Return to the sales floor to find that my two-liner has left. Fucking landlord!

5:40 pm 12/20: Arrive home and promptly scarf down a couple of supreme steak Chalupas and a crunchy taco supreme.

5:43 pm 12/20: Have a nap.

8:00-9:00 pm 12/20: Catch up on My Name is Earl and The Office reruns.

9:06-9:38 pm 12/20: Look through high school football scrapbook and 1998 yearbook. Weep softly and quietly about the good ol' days.

9:39-9:52 pm 12/20: Look through 1998 yearbook and imagine all of the girls I wished I had snogged.

9:53-9:54 pm 12/20: Resist taking 1998 yearbook to the bathroom.

9:55-10:17 pm 12/20: Sort clothes by colors into heaps. Make my bed. Bag up the trash in my room.

10:25 pm 12/20: Head to the My Way Lounge for a couple of beers.

11:30 pm 12/20: Go to the little lady's place for Business Time.

8:27 am 12/21: Return home to put laundry in trash bags and shove as many as will fit into my closet.

8:42 am 12/21: Make three trips to the dumpster.

9:11-9:49 am 12/21: Peruse the year-end issue of Rolling Stone.

9:51 am 12/21: Depart to pick up GA Hill due to his absence of motor vehicle transportation.

10:16 am 12/21: Receive call from Big Boi declaring, "We might as well have dumped the trash on the floor and lit it on fire. The bitch is already gone."

She was there for five minutes. What a mindfuck. As you can tell, we put a hell of a lot of effort into this cleaning party.