TRUE! Disorganized, very, very dreadfully disorganized I had been and am; but why will you say I am lazy? The slovenliness had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute…

To wit: I awaken with a start from a deep, deep sleep.

I lay awake, listening. I hear it. Something… no? Perhaps not. I lay back down. My mind drifts back to the comfort of my dreams, visiting places that exist only in the quiet, charmed recesses of my sleepy imagination.

And there is was again. A thumping.

My eyes pop open. I wait. I strain with the effort to decipher sound past that of my blood coursing through my veins, but I can’t. So I climb out of bed, checking on all the sleeping children in their various states of snoozy drool. All safe.

Back to bed I go, calming myself with thoughts of the next day’s work. The kitchen to clean; beds to make; the scrubbing that lay ahead.

When I had made an end to thoughts of these labours, it was four o'clock -- still dark as midnight. I lay with my eyes closed, coaxing sleep to visit me again. My partner wakes, noting my state, and asks of my sleep.

And then I heard it again. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears; but no. Again it sounded. Faster, constant. I tell my partner that I am fine, with all the reassurances I can muster. The ringing became more distinct : I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness -- until, at length, I found that the noise was NOT within my ears.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

It was A LOW, DULL, QUICK SOUND -- MUCH SUCH A SOUND AS A WATCH MAKES WHEN ENVELOPED IN COTTON. I gasped for breath, and yet my partner heard it not. I could hear it beneath me, through the floorboards. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. I talked more quickly, more vehemently but the noise steadily increased.

Alas I could take it no longer! I ran from the bedroom, the thumping increasing. The vile washing machine was calling out, calling to me, reminding me of its week-long neglect. It pounded against the door of the laundry room, crying out for attention.

"Villains!" I shrieked at the washer and dryer, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! I am lazy! I have ignored you for a week and it felt GREAT! GREAT, DO YOU HEAR?!?!”

I wrenched open the laundry room door to a stale, dirty clothes-filled silence.

“Meow,” said the cat.