I could use a giant fireball about now.

Update::

When cleaning out my dresser drawers I discovered a small cache of roaches living inside. So I sprayed the motherfuck out of that dresser and am going to clean it out. Later.
I got my whole closet cleaned and sprayed, but discovered a drip from the ceiling that had soaked up the rug I've been storing, which was covered in INCHES of mold--by that I mean inches THICK, and what looked like more maggots, just before they hatched.
And I wonder, why the fuck did I move to this state? [But then I remember, and I sigh and throw up and clean up the mess]

So I tossed the rug out the window [managing to keep all those little unhatched motherfuckers inside it while I did so, go me] and learned that the floor of the air vent-thing closet is half rotten away thanks to said drip.

Anyway. I sprayed the living fuck out of my closet [because there's a drop ceiling in there and in my bathroom, likely due to ventilation because of laundry room/bathroom-ings and whatnot], and I need to get up and spray the baseboards of Odin's room ASAP.
But I needed to sit down for a moment. I just freaking had to.

Odin has shit himself three times today.
Something I expected during this getting-over-pullups phase.
But I didn't expect him to not tell me he had done so. All three times. It's very frustrating.

I still have everything in my room to sort through, to put away, and to rearrange. My room looks like I just moved in, all the electronics piled on top of each other, my mattress leaning against the wall, etc.
All my yarn and sewing and art stuff to sort through.
Seven loads of laundry to fold and put away.

But I had to sit down and have a cup of juice.
I'd like to have some beers.
You know what?
I'm going to have a damn beer.