Cleanliness is next to impossible

What’s that you say? My house is looking a bit grubby? Look, I’m busy writing. Besides, it’s time the cat started earning her keep. Luna, come here! Now, just swish your tail over these crumbs on the floor and –

There goes Luna through the pet door.

Okay. I guess it’s down to me then.

First, the dusting

Where are my dust cloths? Oh, right. I go to buy them, but then I remember I need more chocolate so I never make it to the cleaning-supplies aisle. Well, how about these socks with holes in them? Why throw them away when I can put them to a useful purpose?

Where is this maid when I need her?

So far, so good. This sock is working well, except that it’s already covered with an inch of grey dust. Can I shake it out? Ah-choo! Time to find another sock with holes in it.

Astronomy digression

What is dust, anyway? Where does it come from? I’m guessing from Planet Muck, out in the Milky Way, which has no moons and is composed entirely of cat fur, bits of mud, skin flakes, and laundry fluff.

Wow, this is actual space dust on my sock!

Which, come to think of it …

I only bought this sock two months ago. Why the frack has it got holes in it already? I trim my toenails! Here’s a clipping on the sock! This is a defective sock. Bereft of life, it rests in peace; it has ceased to exist, it has joined the choir eternal …

I seem to have forgotten the rest of the Dead Parrot sketch, except for the bit about pining for the fjords. But never mind, I’ve finished the dusting.

Come again? The tops of the books? Oh, please.

Now, where’s the vacuum cleaner?

In the back bedroom closet? No, but here’s the pile of clothes I keep meaning to take to the consignment shop. Maybe I should stop cleaning and do that now?

Sad result of a too-tight sweater

Wait, this is a cashmere sweater! What’s it doing in the consignment shop pile? I’m going to try it on right now and … oh. It’s too tight.

How is that possible? I eat like a bird – albeit one of those rare, tropical, chocolate-eating birds. Am I old enough for age-related weight gain? Probably, if I’m using words like “albeit.” So my metabolism is slowing? Gah. The unfairness!

Why am I standing in this closet with a sock on my hand? Oh yes. The vacuum cleaner. Let’s go check the front bedroom closet.

Etymology digression

Why are they called “vacuum” cleaners? They can’t clean vacuums, because according to my high school science teacher, and he was very persuasive on the subject, nothing can exist in a vacuum. Nor does the vacuum cleaner contain a vacuum – certainly not after it’s come into contact with my floors.

So why “vacuum” cleaner? It’s bogus! It makes no sense! Whom should I complain to?

Stop. Focus. Examine the front bedroom closet. Here are lots of things that I wouldn’t have to deal with if I lived in a vacuum. But no “vacuum” cleaner.

Literary digression

Planet X? Or Planet Muck?

Can I just forego cleaning the floors? Does “forego” contain an “e”? Does it even matter, when we’re all being bombarded daily with particles from Planet Muck? But correct spelling should be the last thing to go. No, the second last thing. After chocolate. And sex. And books. So, okay, the fourth last thing to go.

Hey, speaking of books, here’s one that someone lent me. It looks good. And I deserve a break after all that dusting. I’ll just read a few pages. With a cup of green tea. Green tea burns fat; I read that somewhere. So I can have some chocolate too.

As night falls

Oh my God, you guys, I’m finally finished. Why does it take me all day to clean my house?


Puff the Pomeranian is in the public domain, bless her.

Maid in garden: Walter Crane [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Tom Swift: By Illustration by J. Graham Kaye [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

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