Exercise in Futility

I hate doing housework. Well, I don't hate it. I just despise it immensely. I'd rather do anything, anything at all other than clean house...except iron. I don't want to iron or cook. Please don't make me cook. And windows. I don't do windows. Okay, I do do windows, but you'd never know it because of the dang streaks I leave behind.

Dusting is one big waste of time and effort. I tried to explain my opposition to this useless exercise in futility to Tom the other day as he was leaving the house to go fishing, but he looked at me like a deer high on Bud Light. Dusting should be done only once every six months or if company is coming. Dust accumulates 1/100th's of a millimeter every day. Dust today and tomorrow it's back. It's always there. ALWAYS! So, like I tried to explain to Tom, who got lost in the math--he's not good with fractions--the difference in 1/100th's of a millimeter in accumulation from day to day is not discernible to the naked eye, so why not wait until it changes the color of the furniture or company is coming?