The Synergy of Internal Cleansing and House Cleaning

Before I begin a two-week internal cleanse that I was talked into following by a friend, I need to tell you the following. Please pay close attention.

1. If I don't live through the internal cleanse (and I may not--it has some strange stuff in it), don't blame me for the excessive paperwork in the corners of my bedroom and what you find under my bed. I've always been told it is important to save receipts, memorabilia, old photos, writing samples, correspondence, past work, etc. So I have a few papers lying around--or in storage containers, or in drawers, or in bags. Don't hate me or talk about me in my absence. It's not nice, especially when a dead person can't defend themselves.
2. There are computers on the floor in my office. In fact, there are three of them, all of them are operable, and all are formatted with Windows 98. I was afraid to throw them out due to identity-theft problems, but now that I'll be dead from this two-week internal-cleansing routine, either reformat the hard drives or learn to love Windows 98 all over again.

3. My refrigerator really needs a good cleaning (the cleaning crew doesn't do refrigerators, and neither do I), and no, I don't really know what's in that green bowl at the back on the bottom shelf. I'm afraid to look. From a distance, it appears both squishy and shriveled at the same time. So I'll just leave it for you. Please remember the already-discussed inappropriateness of speaking badly about a dead person and how your own life will be horribly affected by your rudeness toward the dead. Think it over before you make some snide remark.
4. Please don't be horrified by the fact that I keep salt near my computer. And please don't laugh that I might have 10-11 cans of Campbell's Tomato Soup in the kitchen cabinets. I must have Campbell's Tomato Soup on hand at all times. Or Campbell's Cream of Chicken.

5. Don't put me down for owning more socks in every imaginable pattern than you will even need in your lifetime. You can never own enough socks. Or underwear.
6. I own over 250 sweaters, yet wear pretty much the same 5 every winter because they are the warmest and most comfortable. Dead people don't need sweaters, so be sure to distribute them among yourselves or give them to Good Will.

Wait a minute! The friend who insisted I try the internal cleanse in the first place just called to say that the cleansing will not kill me, and it will in fact make me a healthier individual. So you can forget about the refrigerator, the paperwork, and the old computers. Forget about the underwear, sweaters, and socks, and every thing I said . . . my apartment is perfect just the way it is.

I'll go through the paperwork soon; and I'll try to reformat the computer hard drives when I have a chance; and I'll deal with the green bowl at the back of the fridge tomorrow . . . or not.

What? Is there some rush?