Ugh! I am definitely being punished. I cannot think why, unless perhaps it is because last night I summoned what store of weather-working magic I have and arranged to have just enough cloud cover to obscure the lunar eclipse which the humans wished to view.
Thus, today, the human female says I my job is to clean up the bathing chamber. I really did not wish to become this intimately acquainted with Midgardian hygiene.
Replace toilet paper. Check. (Do not belabor me about in which direction the paper must unfurl. I do not care.)
Squeegee down the shower door. Check. (Squeegee–what a most peculiar word.)
Put out fresh towels. Check. (I may have rubbed my sleek Jotun backside on them all.)
Wipe the toothpaste splatters off the mirror. Eew! How do they get toothpaste on the mirror? How is that even possible? I mean, the distribution pattern is stunning in its breadth, but how hard is it to just spit the foam down the drain?
The next item says , “Toothpaste globs in sink.”
Done and dusted. (The human female needs to be more specific in her instructions.)
Last job is to wipe down the counters. This is not hard to do, because the lazy humans buy canisters of disposable wipes in a cleaning solution, all ready to go. Most convenient.
It’s only irksome if someone uses the last one and just leaves the empty container.