The stack of newspapers on the floor is also in the way. It belongs in the recycling bin, but there's no point in it going there until it is augmented by the newspapers on the table, and the newspapers on the table would first need sorting into distinct piles of 1.) recycle and 2.) save for coupons to be clipped. This is unlikely to happen until the couch space where that job is best done becomes available, said space currently being occupied by a napping cat. And why should the cat's nap be interrupted simply because the carpet wants to be vacuumed? What has the cat ever done to the carpet to deserve such ill-treatment (other than shed on it and upchuck the occasional hairball, of course?)
There is also the issue of the kitchen and bathroom floors, which are classed as a single item due to the fact that they are both covered by linoleum. The linoleum is still visible. The film of grime coating it is really quite thin, and completely fails to hide the pattern. To be sure, the removal of the film would be a good thing. Indeed, the linoleum in the spot where I wiped up a kitchen spill the other night is considerably brighter than the surrounding areas, and it would be nice if the entire kitchen floor were to be of matching brightness... and yet the unwiped portion of the linoleum has not yet entirely hidden itself in shame, so is the issue really so urgent? If the linoleum truly wanted to be mopped, would it not do more to make its desire known? Grabbing hold of my shoe by the sole and yanking it from my foot, for example?
The list of undone work grows longer, the more I look around the house. The dust on the windows could be removed, for example, but then the windows would block less of the overly-bright summer light. The chrome of the kitchen faucet could stand a polish, but the faucet drips, and that will soon have to be dealt with, at which time the chrome will get manhandled and will then just have to be polished again. Why do it twice? And every time I see some task that could be done, birds are chirping outside my window. How can I decide on what tasks I might do when there is so much racket? I tap on the window to drive the birds away, and my eye is caught by a butterfly or a small cloud of gnats. Clearly, summer does not want this house to be cleaned. Summer is large, and I dare not cross it. It could conjure up a thunder storm and the house could be struck by lightning and burned down. What a waste of effort any prior cleaning would be once the house was gone!
You can't fight summer. The housecleaning will just have to wait until the season gives me some indication that it approves of such activities. Right now it's telling me to go outside and lie on the chaise, as the sun has moved itself across the sky to place the chaise in the shade. I'd better obey. The sun can be terribly fierce when its efforts go unappreciated.