I’m sorry I hate you so much and I’m really sorry I’ve let you get so rundown and dirty. But, you see, my mom would always come and spend a week in the spring and help me clean. We’d talk and laugh and solve our problems. We had fun and cleaned.
My mom’s not here anymore. She’s gone.
She left without teaching me how she made it fun to clean and now I’m sort of missing her. I know you’re wishing these tears would wash your windows and your windows’ sills or wash your walls or floors or carpets but they won’t.
So, for now, my apologies will have to tide you over. Maybe next spring.