Opening a window
The room could stand to use some air. It's Stuffy City in here! Okay, maybe that's an overstatement, but just the same a little fresh air would be nice. Of course I'll have to remember to close the window because you never know when it will rain. I'd hate for the floor by the window to get wet. Nothing worse than a water stain on a wooden floor. I could set down a towel on the floor to soak up any water that might come in. But then I would have to choose which towel to use. I couldn't just pick any towel because once a towel is used for something like that that's pretty much all it will be good for. I mean, who wants to use a towel that's been on the floor soaking up rain water? Not me.

Vacuuming the new rug
My new rug just sheds and sheds and sheds. Even if I vacuumed it all day there would still be little clumps of fuzz lying around. It's almost like the vacuum isn't sucking anything up. Wait a second: maybe I need to replace the vacuum bag. But it's so terribly tricky to open up the vacuum and put in a new bag. I hate it. If I had a servant that's the first thing I'd have him or her do everyday. I'd say "Check the vacuum bag, Marcel." I call my imagined servant Marcel because it's a non-gender specific name. Plus I like the sound of it. I remember when I was young I hoped to marry someone named Marcel. There's something sexy and classy about the name. However, if I had a servant named Marcel I wouldn't want to marry him or her. That would just complicate our professional relationship and chances are the vacuum bag wouldn't be checked as regularly as I would like it to be.

Getting the mail
I wonder what I'll get in the mail today. I hope a magazine. I don't subscribe to any magazines, but maybe the postman will make a mistake and deliver one to me. I hope he accidentally puts a HouseBeautiful in my mailbox. That would be sweet. I love that magazine. It's so full of ideas for your house and how to make it more beautiful. But wouldn't I feel guilty if I received a magazine that was meant for a neighbor? After all, they paid for it. I'd probably just skim through it and then place it in their mailbox, probably some time late at night when nobody would see. But what if they saw me and confronted me about taking and skimming though their magazine? I guess then I'd have to act crazy and swear at them in a mean a voice so they would back off and leave me alone. That would probably do the trick.

Watering the plants
When was the last time I watered the plants? I need to write down a schedule for watering the plants. That's the only way I'll remember. Otherwise I'll keep forgetting to water them and they'll die. Nobody wants that. Okay, maybe a part of me wants that a little. My plants have sort of an attitude. They need to know who's boss. I am so much more powerful than them, yet still they fail to show me the proper respect. Maybe I should kill one to set an example for the others. That might work. But which one do I kill? Hmm. I'll have to think about that one.

Folding laundry
So many clothes. So many, many clothes. Socks. Shirts. Pants. Underwear. So many clothes. I never have enough room to lay them out after while folding them. I need a big table. I could use the dining room table, I suppose, but there's something funny about putting your underwear on the place where you eat. And not funny "ha-ha", but funny "Yucko". Not that my underwear is particularly dirty. In fact it's not, especially after it's been washed. This pair right here is very clean. Why it even smells clean. Sniff-sniff. The cotton feels so soft against my nose. Why is my neighbor looking at me from his yard? Has he been watching me smelling my underwear this whole time? Damn him. "I don't have your stupid magazine!" It's true, I don't. I mean, I did, but only for a little while. It was the June issue of The Naturalistand not HouseBeautiful, so it held very little interest for me. Sure I like nudist literature as much as the next person, but I had better things to do, like vacuuming my rug and trying to decide which houseplant to kill. "Let me fold my laundry in peace! If not I will start swearing and acting crazy very shortly!" I hate to use threats, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Oh great, my folding laundry buzz has been totally killed now. Perhaps smelling a clean sock will help. Sniff-sniff. No, that didn't do the trick. Darn. How can I finish folding the laundry now? This stinks. Where's a Marcel when you need him or her?

This post is dedicated to the time it is when it's time to make the donuts.