Timothy muttered, "I'll check that later," before grumpily dozing off in the living room, too tired to even lock his door or check on his trusty termite companion.
The next morning, the harsh glare of sunlight piercing through the windows jolted him awake at around 10 a.m.
He yawned, stretching until his joints creaked like an old wooden door, feeling surprisingly refreshed.
Still groggy, he shuffled toward the bathroom in his shared room with his siblings, where he took a bath, brushed his teeth, and washed away any lingering fatigue.
It was only then that he realized the clothes he had worn the previous night were in tatters.
Sighing, he tossed them in the trash, yet another casualty of his ever-evolving circumstances.
With only one set of clothes left, he had no choice but to wear them.
Though he hadn't planned much for the day, he knew what needed to be done.
The house felt messy, so he spent time organizing and dusting until everything was in order.
