The exterminator was coming this afternoon so I spent most of my day cleaning. The floors had to be clear so the bug spray would reach every corner and do its job. Plus, I had to be sure every dog dish, dog toy, and dog bed was safe from being coated with poison. Also, I wanted the place to look nice. I couldn’t let the exterminator think I’m a slob, could I? Of course not. Then again, I am a bit of a slob, but he doesn’t need to know that. After a few hours I managed to bring my apartment to a stage I like to refer to as Artistically Cluttered. I brought out the Swiffer Duster and Rex followed me from surface to surface, obviously worried and frantic, as if saying, What the hell is that thing? What are you doing? Which, of course, made me feel like a pig. I wished I could afford a maid, but then I’d have to clean for the maid and the exterminator. That would be ridiculous.