You know when you’re in a hotel or at a home away from home or on vacation and you take your baby back to your room or suite or bunkie or ice hut and you think, the baby can nap and I’ll get so much done?
But the clacking of your keyboard is enough to startle the baby into a hysterical, frigid starfish and wake up screaming so you opt instead to wash dishes quietly but the running water is so much louder than it is at home so you brush your teeth but the electric toothbrush while buzzing a soothing hum isn’t consistent when turned off abruptly after the scheduled 2 min. mark, you can’t risk it so just the one front tooth sparkles.
You can’t put clothes in the dryer because slamming the door with enough force to actually close it will send your child into a post traumatic stress induced coma as would the totally unnecessary blaring buzz indicating the end of a cycle.
You can’t flush the toilet so you pee (while shushing the urine) and leave it sitting in the bowl.
You can’t turn on the kettle for a cup of tea because the whistling water sounds like a dozen squirrels are screaming.
You could make the beds but you can’t risk swearing while trying to make perfect hospital corners.

Vacuuming–out
Running the dishwasher–out
Showering–out. What if you’re rinsing your hair and your baby falls out of bed and rolls down the stairs and you can’t hear her over your uncanny interpretation of Kelly Clarkson’s Mr. Know It All?
Or what if the baby walks out the front door?
Then you hear the gleeful squeals of children skipping down the hall so you smile, poke your head out and yell, “Hey kids! SHUT!!! UP!!!

So you sit on the couch careful not to scrunch the leather beneath too loudly and you stare blankly at the wall for an hour and a half.
When your husband returns and sees the mess, the pee-filled toilet, the dryer door dangling on its hinges, a kettle filled with cold water, dirty dishes, unmade beds, lint-riddled carpets, a complaint notice from the front desk about the crazy mother in 4B who screamed at some kids on holiday with the Make A Wish Foundation and you’re as disheveled as you’ve ever looked (with really repulsive breath) and asks, “What have you been doing all this time?”
You have my permission to punch him in the gizzard.