Whatever arsehole wrote that must have had a maid, or no job.
I mean, seriously. I have never had a Sunday that was easy. My Sundays usually involve hours of yard work, or simply BEING at work, which ends today, today being the last Sunday I will ever work, but I digress--Sunday is always my working day. One of the small benefits of living in a Bible Belt town in the Deep South is that on Sundays everything closes, and that which doesn't close isn't open until noon, and will only stay open until about 5, so there's no real distractions to keep me from doing housework.
*insert easily distracted joke here*
So as my final Sunday working for Office Supply Gigantor Serve You Sucky-Sucky, I have to go in this morning at 8 am, four hours before the store opens for bid-ness, and paint. The side wall today, as last time was the front wall wherein we ran out of time to finish, since we had my help, a coworker who is a complete noob dolt who could talk a game like nobody's business but when it came right down to it could barely manage to put the correct end of the roller in the tray and left more paint on the floor and himself than on the wall. Apparently old boy never heard of drop cloths or big sheets of cardboard which can be found in abundance (where's that, in Texas?) in any retail store.
The secret here, guy, is to put the fuzzy part in the wet part, then put the fuzzy wet part on the big tall flat bit.
*banging head on the big tall unpainted flat bit*
What gives me the real despairs is that I'm gonna spend most of my morning (likey 6 or 7 hours of it) putting in a very physical go at painting, then come home to shower and start laundry, which has to be done NOW, so we will all have clean clothing tomorrow and the next day and etc.
And I just remembered I have to go clean the catbox out, so if you'll excuse me, I need to find my biohazard contamination suit.