If at the very time he prescribed, even when given notice, he dismisses that notice, turning away and producing not the slightest response, then as the wife sees things, she's done her duty and any blame rests with the husband. Let him be late if he wants to be late. Thus washing her hands of the matter, she shoulders her broom and duster and marches off to the study. The sound of patting and sweeping, echoing from various parts of the room, is the signature of her cleaning and dusting routine. Whether this routine is for exercise, or whether it's some form of sport, is of no concern to a cat with no such responsibilities. Though I've no need to involve myself, I must remark that the wife's approach to the matter seems utterly pointless. The reason I deem it pointless, if I may be allowed to expound, is that she only cleans for cleaning's sake. She runs her duster over the shōji panes, then slides her broom over the tatami mats. With that, she regards the room as clean. Effect and outcome concern her not in the least. Thus it is that the places that are cleaned are always clean, and the places with clutter and dust remain cluttered and dusty. As in the tale told of Confucius and the routine sacrifice of the lamb, perhaps it's best she continue doing as she does. However, it's hard to see where her cleaning serves the master. Given that it servers no purpose, it's all the more laudable that she goes to lengths, day in and day out, to repeat it. Despite the long-standing custom of the wife cleaning the house, and despite the ingrained mechanics of the associated activities, this wife's cleaning does nothing to further the art. Going back to before she was born, or even back to before there were dusters and brooms, cleanliness has advanced not the least. In my opinion, this relationship between the wife and cleaning is akin to associations drawn between disparate elements in a formal logic proposition.