I've got a goldfish.  He lives in my kitchen in a little bowl.  He requires no piped in oxygen, and seems to really enjoy life.  He gets very excited when we walk by, and extra excited when we look at him and talk to him.  My favorite thing to say to him is "Fishy, fishy, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry.  Why, Fishy, why, why did you do it?"  He seems to enjoy this ritual as well, especially as some fish flakes usually accompany the words.  About once a month his water begins to get murky, and I change the water.  It's easy and it gives me pleasure.  I like thinking about how much more comfortable my fishy will be with clean water.

I've got a husband.  He lives in my house.  When the sun sets and the house gradually turns dark, I go into the bedroom, close the windows and shut the blinds and turn on the bedside lamp.  If I think of it and have time, I'll turn down the bed as they do for you at the nicer hotels.  I'll remove the decorative pillows and turn down the comforter so that it's easy to slide into the sheets.  It gives me pleasure to do this.  I like to think how easy it will be for Dave to roll into bed and cast off into sleep, like a ship sliding into the harbor at night, smooth and quiet.