A note from the Chore Whore
We could live on an 8′ by 8′ piece of dirt and I’d still be in the doghouse for not sweeping and dusting enough.
The Universe, however, likes to toss me a bone every once and again. When it comes to chores, the Universe likes to say, “Hey, little buddy. How about you and me get together and make this fun?”
Apparently we don’t have enough in common to form a language translation matrix. The linguistic database chokes on this mysterious word “fun.” I guess that’ll have to remain one of the great mysteries of life.
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