And we took the living room apart and cleaned it unmercifully to within an inch of its life. We even painted some of the walls because the paint came off with all the scrubbing. All the animals fled in terror, apart from Yama who sat on top of the cat tree surveying the chaos around him, like this:
Philmophlegm organised the DVDs in historical date order, which meant several pauses to check the dates of Ghenghis Khan, or the Emperor Commodus. We haven't quite managed to put things back together yet, so there are still piles of stuff here and there, and no curtains (I am conducting an experiment on the subject of 'do curtains need dry cleaning or can you just bung them in the washing machine, the outcome of which will be established when I hang them back up and they do, or do not, turn out to have shrunk) but at least our house is considerably cleaner, less tangled, and 100% in date order.
When we had collapsed in a heap, Brythen let himself out (by standing up and working the doorhandle with his paw: why do I have lurchers again?) and he charged madly round the garden. Then he came storming back in with muddy feet and danced on the clean carpet. Alas.