Like the tail-eater from ancient Greek mythology, I move through the house with Hetty in an endless cycle of dusting and vacuuming. This ritual is a part of me, and she (Hetty) has become a permanent fixture in our household. Within this dutiful act lies the driving force behind this project: when am I allowed to make art? Do I need to finish my work, laundry, and housekeeping before I can create? And who decides that? Why am I bothered by this while my housemates are not? Is it ingrained from childhood, and if so, how do I break free from it?