Damned Housework

I was due to go into the studio today; was going to do a lot of editing and arranging and perhaps record the Sulkworm song on the Rhodes. But poor Tom has an ear infection.
So I've had a good chat with Rose the Big Issue seller (hello Rose!)who has a new chair 'cos her old one got vandalised. Between us we agreed it would be great to ask Ben Wilson the chewing gum painter to paint her chair, so that's what we're gonna do.
I've played and sung for an hour solid and I've almost lost my voice and worn my fingers to the bone; I've eaten a whole bar of chocolate I'd bought to share.
I've done almost everything I wrote on the back of my hand to do.
And there's nothing left to do but damned housework.
The hoover needs emptying.
All I can think of is 'Atishoo!'.
If I sneeze, will that use up the whole of the rest of the day's energy?
I have to put the bottles back in the double-disinfected cupboard where the rats were.
Clean the cooker.
Wipe the fridge.
Put the rubbish out.
Wipe the table.
Wash the drinking glasses.
Play piano... oops no, that isnae the housework is it?

If I have time later I will upload the hilarious photograph of the cat sleeping in the turquoise plastic bucket. Hed been completely inside it, but I woke him up as I went down the stairs and he lifted his head up. It's still a bloody funny picture; he'd been in there all night.