I wish there was a planet where when you planned to get up early and give the house a mighty cleaning, including even the top of the refrigerator where aliens may be camped out but you never would know because you are too short to see up there, but then you had to go out to the bank first because it is only open till noon on Saturdays, on that planet you started cleaning when you got home.
But since you are out you might as well go to breakfast and then run into the supermarket for just one, okay, fifteen, things that are on sale This Saturday Only! and also the post office, but then you could start cleaning as soon as you got home.
But when your grand kids came home with you and stayed another four hours eating goldfish crackers, showing you funny cat videos on the computer while eating fgokdish crackers, jumping on the bed, and watching Monsters, Inc. for the nine-hundred and fifty-fourth time while eating goldfish crackers, until their dad pulled into the driveway and texted them to come out, and after only half an hour of looking for their shoes they went home, that then you would clean the house.
On that planet, when you woke up from your nap, you would get up from the recliner where you fell down exhausted when the kids left, and would jump into housework-mode like a housecleaning Ninja getting ready for the Health Department inspectors.
But I don't live on that planet.
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