Cleaning and dying

I LOVE THE MAID SERVICE. Two maid people have been here for over 3 hours and I have an apartment again. I have a floor. I have a desk. I have a table. I have a bed. They organized my shit and put all my papers that were everywhere in a few neat stacks on my desk. My clothes are all in the closet. They're just finishing up in the kitchen right now. For as awkward as I feel having a maid service, this was amazing. Maybe the next time I have them come back I'll have been able to do some actual organizing first and then they can really clean all the nooks and crannies and shit, because today was just the big huge overhaul. Now I need to shower and collect all of my laundry and head over to my parents' house. My grandpa was moved up to hospice today for what they expect to be the last few days of his life, so I'm taking my sister to go see him when she gets back from work tonight. She has an absolutely horrific sense of direction so she wants me to go with her, which means being at my parents' when she gets home and driving from there, so I figure I'll take advantage of having to be there and use their washing machine and let the dog run around.

I've actually been wandering around the lakefront parks with my friend Him and my dog for the last few hours since I needed to keep the dog out of the apartment while they cleaned. It was very nice. A bit hot, but very nice, and the dog got lots of exercise, which he seriously needed. He knows when something's wrong with me and he's been all kinds of restless and clingy and whiny. Poor puppy. It was also good spending some quality time with Him. We've been friends for more than ten years but there have been ups and downs and it's an odd dynamic, but today was quite lovely. Yay for lovely.