Because it really is personal…

Ok maybe it’s not that bad, but I tell you what, some of the stuff I do is completely invisible, or else so mundane absolutely no one notices. Things like these:
……… and
~~~~~~, but only after I do
^8^ first. Then there’s
**** and *~*~*~

And yet, when I finish those tasks (****** comes to mind as the most egregiously humdrum), even though everyone marches in the door, requesting or demanding to be fed and listened to, and is utterly oblivious to the work done around here, I get a feeling of satisfaction, one of those ‘job well done’ sensations. I will look at the ***** as I walk past, and know that it’s no longer sticky with unnamed substance and all because of me.

That’s right, my name is Doris DoRight and This Is My House. Write your name in the dust on the counter, and I’ll get back with you.