God, you are so great, and give me so much. Please let me have remembered to flip that lamp on and off 30 times. My life has been so nice because you, in your infinite wisdom, have allowed me to turn the stove on and then off 16 times every day. Before I die, may all of my microwaves be wiped clean with bleach and then unplugged and then plugged back in again and then, finally, unplugged. For all the gifts you have given me I have left 250 handwritten spell-checked copies of my will in pleasant symmetrical fashion on the Lysol-sprayed oak table, which was wiped down 56 times. Praise! As I am laid to rest in my coffin—may it be vacuumed seven times—let not the paramedics pass by me without the emergency defibrillator, so I can be resuscitated precisely four times before death finally takes me to you. And may the mortician have the grace to have the embalming fluid inserted and drained at least 2.5 times before burial.