Oh, I see you there, all wrinkled and sulking. Is this your way of protesting because I left you bunched up in the dryer for too long? You’re feeling offended because I had a million other tasks to tackle, and you decided to develop creases as a reminder of my neglect. Well, here’s the truth: you’ll just have to stay creased. If I can’t manage to move you from the dryer to the drawer in a timely manner, I assure you, ironing is not happening. So really, you’re only making life harder for yourself.
Let’s be honest, you’re seriously testing my patience. You demand a wash and dry every single day, as if I have that kind of time! Sometimes, I can’t even manage to wash myself daily. But when I don’t give you the attention you crave, you retaliate by multiplying rapidly and exuding an odor so foul that even Febreze wants to retreat. If you believe that stinking up the place will grab my attention, think again — you don’t need to assault my senses to get noticed.
It’s impossible not to see you. One moment, it’s just a few towels and shirts, and the next, I’m staring at a mountain of laundry that rivals Everest. Yes, Laundry, I recognize your role in keeping my family clothed — that’s vital. But that doesn’t give you the right to stage a hostile takeover with your psychological tricks. You know I’ll eventually have to give in to your demands, and you take that as a green light to spread yourself across my bedroom floor, invade the hallway, and pile up on my couch. You play these mind games, like, “Am I dirty? Should you wash me again? You’ll have to sniff to find out.”
To make things worse, just when I think I’ve caught up, I find you lurking again. I close the bathroom door or peek under a bed and voila — there’s a sock, a pair of undies, or even an entire outfit I somehow overlooked because my family can’t seem to manage putting their dirty clothes in the hamper.
Now that I think about it, this must be a conspiracy. You’re in cahoots with the kids and the pets, plotting to keep me bound to your never-ending schedule. You whisper to them, “Hey, kitty, why not vomit on me? That way, she’ll have to toss me in the wash!” And then you cackle with evil delight, knowing your plan is working.
Let me make myself clear: I may feel overwhelmed by you now, but one day — when the kids are grown — you won’t hold this power over me. Just remember that.
Sincerely,
Me
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