Whut. The. Fuck. Here's the deal. The house is being painted by The Old Man. He's not very subtle. In ANYTHING. Therefore setting up the NOISY CLACKITYCLACKCLACKIN' ladder UNDER MY WINDOW WHILE I'M SLEEPING makes for a GRUMPY morning considering I was in that sweet spot of sleep where you drift and flow into consciousness. FRICKETY FRAK. *iz GRUMPTASTIC* Serious. And now I am having a BAD DAY. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Much like Donna's grumpiness in this fic.
And now we dance. Cos dancing makes everything better.