Ah, just finished vacuuming the carpet. Not very satisfying when you realize after all that work it's still just the same eight-year-old crap carpet that Peebag has had her way with. But it does look better.
Poor Maim, she's absolutely terrified of the vacuum cleaner, like it's some kind of dragon that lives in the closet under the stairs along with the wrapping paper and old photo boxes. You'd think with her draconic heritage, she'd feel some kind of cameraderie with the evil bag of suck, but as far as her little Kobold brain can tell, it's this mammoth creature that every now and then escapes from its den to rampage, thrashing and hissing around the house until I finally wrestle it back under the stairs.
I'm Maimer's Saint George.
While I wrangle, panting and red-faced (I'm sadly out of shape), Maim just hides at the top of the stairs, calling to me occasionally for updates. Sometimes, the dragon even makes it all the way upstairs and Maimer has to flee to my room, the only place she knows the dragon dare not tread since it feeds on carpet and you can never see any in there.