you can call them a herd, or a pack, or a flock, or just a bunch...but whatever they are as a group, they are in fact millers, milling around, in your way, whenever you are trying to do something that requires space. this could be cleaning, carrying multiple heavy objects or supplies in or out of their house, or feeding, or getting dressed in the morning, it could involve getting ready for work or bed or going out the door, it even includes trying to bath someone or even bathing yourself. the millers mill around whenever there is any kind of potential activity that they may want to participate in, or prevent, or speed up or slow down, or simply see what the heck is going on now, just in case it may be something they want to know. millers actively take part in any event that has interest to them and even some that do not because milling itself is self-perpetuating.
and the problem with millers is two fold, one.... they get in your way and two...they multiply, one or two millers, quickly become ten. milling is a dangerous activity, too many little feet underneath a giant on a mission and someone invariably gets their toes squished. mops or brooms, trying to avoid the obvious, in your face millers, sometimes inadvertantly clip the peripheral ones. the most dangerous, is head injuries...carrying and juggling a dozen cans of food, plus various bowls and forks thru a pack of millers, can be deadly. drop just one on someone's head by accident and they could be seriously injured or sporting a fork antenna for the rest of their lives.
we could get alot more done, alot more quickly and efficiently AND SAFELY, if the millers would just park themselves and watch from the couch.
I've just gotten used to being part of a whirling dervish with 38 feet moving throughout the house. We tend to move en masse, which works until someone stops. Usually it's Eeyore, I mean Madison, trying to commit suicide by crushing, or Keifer, who has forgotten where we were going.