Once upon a time, as in this morning, I grabbed the vacuum cleaner along with the duster and decided to spring clean...er... autumn clean rather.
Happily going along, with hydrating water breaks in between, I encountered few of those evil dust bunnies.
Nasty creatures those.
They were quickly slain thanks to the swift vacuum, my modern day sword.
That wicked witch's plan to over take the house with grime and dust shall not go by without a fight.
Musing her overthrow, I found a pea beneath the cushion of my favourite fall-asleep-in-front-of-the-TV couch.
Aghast, I brought forth the vacuum for the umpteenth time.
This 'PJ princess' was not going to be defeated that easily.
But did it mean that I am not a princess?
Trying to run away from that thought, I carried on frantically from room to room.
Thanks to Hans Christian Andersen, every girl fancies themselves a princess at least once in their lives.
Almost becoming delirious with dread that I could not feel a pea beneath one measly little tinee tiny cushion, lo and behold, I came upon a revelation.
I do not necessarily have to be that princess.
After all my raggedy appearance qualified me to play Cinderella today.
And tomorrow if I decide to just sleep in,all day, and the day after that, then I can be Sleeping Beauty.
And if I find seven dwarfs (highly unlikely, unless I buy some garden statues) then I can be Snow White.
Perhaps one day a prince will come along.
And maybe we can live happily ever after, only after the house hold chores are split 50-50.
Womens lib also did wonders for princesses it seems.