This new me thing is getting out of control

See, I was going to to throw my whole self into a rant. Because I'm fed up with seeing only gorgeous girls, really very pretty (I'll grant them that), but overly made up, and are they anything but pretty? I'm scared shitless that this is the model my niece will grow up with. Those girls say nothing except that to succeed in life - in life - you need to be first and foremost aesthetically pleasing, that none of your actual qualities, talents, skills, matter. It shits me to no end to think that people are basing their assessment of others purely on how they look. And I'm fed up with the fact that everytime I go out, I see everyone wanting to look like someone else and I'm stuck with me. I like to think that I'm a good girl inside, but it almost never fails that I end up feeling like a three-legged duck. (And of course this would have been a show of bad faith, but it would have been my rant.)
But I won't. Because I have cleansed my flat. Cleansed. As in used everything under the sun for proper housework, broom, brush, hoover, mop, wipes, the whole shebang.
I have even devised a programme for cleansing a flat. Go at it in a couple days at least. I know it's a long time, but I'm not saying you should spend the whole two or three days cleaning. For instance. Hypothetically. The first day, tidy up, sort the papers, throw away the old magazines that you keep because you keep saying you'll get to them, but, deep down, you know you won't, don't you? Throw away. Bin. Trash. Consider it therapy. Get rid of all the stuff that's holding you back... I should write a self-help book.
Once that's done, you'll want to do the rest.
Anyway, now, the dust has been eradicated, stuff has been moved to the basement (the basement! That place gives me the willies just to think of it, because the first time I went there with a friend, he was absolutely convinced he'd seen somebody, and on our way out he was afraid we might be about to lock him inside that damp, dank, dreaded place! And I went on my own this time!), the furniture has been moved, I am now sleeping on the other side of the bed, that's how moved the furniture has been, the floorboards have been scrubbed and a very synthetic, albeit not unpleasant, odour of wood is now permeating the flat, the bathroom belongs in a show flat, the kitchen... the kitchen... I could almost cook now.
And for a perfect finish to a not so bad day, considering, the insider has helped me polish off an application letter for a job in New York. We're taking over the world.
So really, a rant would have been just... unfair. But I'm keeping it for later. Just in case.