11:30 AM: "Cleaning" being a relative term. When I'm done I don't think the room will be "clean" as the Western world traditionally defines it, but it will be less horrifying. I discover, every few months that even I have my limits...Oh God...How does this happen? Seriously, I'll just lay this piece of paper here and I'll pick it up later and I'll also hang my laundry up "later" so I can put my dirty clothes in the hamper instead of on the floor...It all starts so innocently...
11:45 AM: I have pushed myself far beyond the limits of human endurance. I have reached the summit of human knowledge...or the depths if you prefer. There is no food or water here...Please send help!
12:00: Most of my men are now dead or very near it. I myself suspect my own expiration is at hand... Posterity may well judge me a monster, a madman or a fool. I can only say for my own part that I am a man who set his course and did not deviate from it.
I remain, as ever, a humble student of the natural sciences,
Further references to my platoon, about which you know nothing, are to be considered libelous and may result in legal action. Address all further concerns regarding this matter to Peter Francis Geraci
Well, that's another platoon you've lost, dumbass.