My Blogety Blog
Or, Why the Laundry Monster Won At Chez Noony Tonight
You ever come across a perfect title to a book, one you wish you would have thought of yourself because it was just that cool? My Booky Wook is that book for me. I remember the first time I saw it, too: I sat in my writing group’s prompt circle and there it was, across the table on a shelf at the bookstore where we used to meet – the Booky Wook! Russell Brand, you are a genius, you unfair bastard – you came up with the awesomest title I wish I wrote!
Laundry is like that – that sense of, didn’t I do you already? Why are you staring at me from the laundry basket, acting like you grew there, like some hand smarter than mine put you there? Laundry is the thing that plagues us all, if we are fortunate enough to have clothes (don’t laugh, there are people in this world who don’t have enough clothes, much less too many). Laundry in baskets. In washbins. In fancy yuppy hampers you’re too proud to admit you bought at WalMart. Fancy conveyances that cost more than a fancy dinner that ding when they’re full in case you weren’t blessed with eyes that can see the socks sticking out of it because the lid won’t shut when it’s overfull and would you do the damned wash already, please?
But why socks? Why, Laundry God, do you insist on your tribute of a pound of, not flesh, but socks? I like my socks, damn it! I have cute ones: ones with lady bugs, ones with elephants, ones with little red hearts on them with sparkly stripes, fancy dress-up socks I wear to the office, (well, all right, I wear the other ones to the office too but more out of a fit of rebellion than any thought that they look chic). I have ratty ones: and no, I’m not describing my ratty socks to you, you shouldn’t have asked me! But why, Landry God, do you eat them, all kinds of socks, from handknit to scratchy cheap polyester and you should have bought cotton socks? Why?
I figured it out, though. I’m finally on to the Laundry God’s evil plan: I now know where all the extra socks go on laundry day.
They turn into wire hangars and clog my closet with clutter.
Take THAT, Russell Brand!
“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”
– E.E. Cummings
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