The Studio Ceiling Paint

Today has been a busy day already, so much so that I have come back to the cottage out of the way of the frenetic activity now taking place in the studio. I have just selected a particularly tasty Bonio for a quiet chomp and sought the comfort and quiet of my comfy cushion instead. I also have my eye on a Markie which I have noticed under the side of the cooker. Well, I have always said that the ruddy Dyson is an instrument of the devil himself haven't I? There is a kind of malevolent consciousness about it which terrifies me, and I think this morning has proved me right. Yet again!! My guess is The Owner has a meeting today in the studio, as early this morning he threw the ruddy Dyson onto his shoulder and marched off to the studio with a certain sense of purpose about him. He then proceeded to vacuum the carpet, then my vet-bed and duvet, then behind the book shelves and, clearly warming to his task he went in search of more fodder to feed the damn thing with. Nothing was safe! My world was in a frenzy as I ran from desk to desk trying to find some refuge from this mechanical Lucifer! Then he turned his attentions to Spider, who, together with many of his ancestors, has spent the last hundred years or more building cobwebs without limitations. Was nothing safe I wondered? Apparently not! I have been noticing two large areas of ceiling paint peeling a little and that was where The Owner turned his attentions next, which I was quite pleased about as the usual ritual when nothing further can be sucked up off the floor is to chase me around a lot with the Dyson hose. It was then that it happened!!! The effects of the ruddy Dyson were a little too much for the adhesive properties of two hundred years of paint on the ceiling and with an extra special suck from the Dyson hose, about half of the area of the ceiling paint came down as one piece! I thought I was seeing a ghost or something as the dust began to settle, this sheet of white paint was draped over the desk and the light unit in the middle of the ceiling and this big lump was moving around underneath it like a hamster under a freshly laid carpet. The only thing which gave away what was causing it was that the lump was swearing quite a lot using words that I pretend not to understand, so it had to be The Owner. Postman arrived at that point and opened the door and shut it again very quick. I guess we'll be getting our mail tomorrow instead! I think today, my comfy cushion will be about as far as I venture, for my own safety as much as anything else.