There were no dogs to be found. The passageway had become much more disorganized. The lamp was turned off, and one of the walls was covered in crumpled blankets. The living area had a noisy TV with toys and clothes all about. The sink was clogged with filthy dishes and pots, there were breakfast scraps on the table, the refrigerator door was ajar, dog food on the floor, smashed glass under the table, and a little pile of sand near the entrance.

In quest of his wife, the husband hurried upstairs, stumbling over toys and big mounds of clothing. He was afraid that something bad had happened to her. He noticed water on the floor, which was coming from the bathroom door. When he entered the bathroom, he witnessed a shambles: wet towels, soap, foam, and a smattering of toys on the floor. Toilet paper was heaped high, and toothpaste was smeared on the walls and mirrors.

He dashed to his wife’s bedroom, where she was curled up in bed. She was reading a book in her pyjamas. She grinned as she glanced at him. Then she inquired about his day. “What happened here?” he wondered, puzzled. “You ask me every day after work what I did today, right?” she grinned again. “Yes?” he asked, still unsure. “Well, today,” she blurted out, “I did absolutely nothing!”