You will no longer need your BBQ apron
You realize that you no longer need the BBQ apron you found at the dumpster a few days ago, but due to the possibility of the government monitoring your every move, you must stay in your house during the daytime. You catch up on your reading and laundry.
“I’ve never smelt such a crisp rain,” you sigh as you dump the detergent down into the tub of the washing machine. “But why’s it always smell like rain? I’m trying to fight stains, not drought!” You immediately regret that joke, but whatever. If the feds are eavesdropping, they’re not going to get much today apart from a few lousy jokes about consumer goods.
With the bulk of your laundry finished and your floors as freshly swept as ever, you’ve got several hours to kill before nightfall when it is safe to take out the trash. You feel so good to be alive, although the gloomy weather is persisting.You decide to: