Cobweb

Cobweb picture

“Is that a cobweb?” I asked, staring at the ceiling.

She looked up from her book. “Where?”

“Up there, in the corner.”

“Looks like it”, she said, before returning to her book.

“So?”

She sighed and looked up. “So, what?”

“Didn’t you clean this week?”

“I did,” she replied.

I pointed at the cobweb.

“I guess I missed it,” she continued, not looking up from her book.

“You know, come to think of it, the house has been looking quite shabby lately. Is anything the matter?”

“Nope, just don’t feel like cleaning any more.”

"Oh."

“But it’s your job to do the cleaning.”

“Yeah? So I resign.”

“You can’t resign.”

“Can.”

I gazed at her with puzzled incredulity. “So who’s going to do the cleaning?”

She shrugged.

“It’s not fair, you know,” I continued. “You expect me to work hard all day while you sit on your ass?”

“I don’t expect you to work all day.”

“What? So I should resign too?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“What’s 'want' got to do with it? I need to work. You need to clean. That’s how it works.”

“It’s a crap system.”