I know it. I can feel it. A giant beast slumbers, an ocean of fur that heaves beneath your feet, each rib a foot hill, each breath a wave cresting.
And the rumbling, grumbling snore, long and low.
There are car parts on the table. We're cleaning up and they need to go down to the barn. I need to put the parts away.
But if I go down there, it will begin.
It will be small.
While I'm here, I should take a wrench and tighten down the antenna bolt. Then tighten the mirror now that it's set right. It would take 2 minutes to pull off the steering wheel and straighten it, but while I have that off, I can re-attach the head light switch, I didn't click it in right the last time. But while that plate is off, I can put in the new window washer switch, even though I can't take the car out in the rain, my wipers would work.
It would take no time at all to install the longer screws into the kick plates, and mount the other speaker.
I should check the oil.
Would take no time at all to jack up the car, slither under and replace the back up light relay, I do need back up lights.
Then pull the engine out and put on a new seal.
I must resist!
Let the beast slumber, another day.
I have chores. I promised to vacuum the house.
Promised! My word, my bond! I said I'd do it!
I have to get under the beds and I can take out the little vacuum to do that.
The little vacuum is in the barn, where the beast sleeps.