Everyone who knows me knows I'm a terrible mess. It's horrible. I'm the female version of "film" bachelor. In the kitchen, fast food boxes are piled up, beer cans and bottles of stronger liquor are banging, and the bedroom is full of xbox games. So that there are no understatements and rude comments - I am not a nasty cough. I'm a slim woman who hates farting about healthy food and rabbit food. From burning calories are exercises, not eating a leaf of lettuce for the whole day. Going back to my home duties - when I get down to cleaning it up, I'm serious. I pull out heavy cannons like a giant vacuum cleaner, tons of cloths, buckets, and a million of these fragrant wonders. In addition, when I'm cleaning, my singing and dancing mode is automatically activated, so one beautiful day off I started to clean up thoroughly. Yellow gloves stretched over the elbows, hair tied with a piece of cloth on top of the head and a bottle of whisky to intensify the enthusiasm to work. I'm singing to the mop with Freddy Mercury on the radio. I've been dancing around the apartment like a female version of Michael Jackson. Suddenly something shakes my nose, I sneeze loudly.- Cheers - I hear.I wipe my nose into my sleeve, in a very feminine and little bit feminine way, with a "thank you" at the same time.Only after a while did I realize that I live alone and I checked a million times if the door is closed. Believe me, I had a mini heart attack. I grabbed the first thing I had at hand, a bottle of whisky, and turned around and threw myself at the one behind me. No one was there. No, it wasn't a supernatural creature with an above-average personal culture. Just the radio announcer was kind enough to say "cheers" to his sneezing guest. I killed my radio and a bottle of the gods' drink :/ Cleaning will never be the same again.