What’s that you say? My house is looking a bit grubby? Look, I’m busy writing here. And 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. I guess it’s down to me then.
First, the dusting
Maid needed!
Why don’t I have any dust cloths? Oh, right. I go out 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? Maybe I can put them to a useful purpose …
So far, so good, except that the sock is already covered with with a thick layer of dust. Let’s shake it out.
Ah-choo! Okay, 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, 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 has it got holes in it already? I trim my toenails! 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 Monty Python’s Dead Parrot sketch, except for that 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 a pile of clothes I keep meaning to take to the consignment shop. Maybe I should stop cleaning and do that now?
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?
