I can't get everything just right and it freezes me.
I can't write here until my house is clean and I can't clean my house until I am wearing makeup and clean clothes but none of the clothes are clean so where does that leave me?
I don't know where this came from, the having to do everything in this order, but it's the only way I can build momentum and win the day rather than dragging through and collapsing and wanting to punch things.
There is dead laundry in a heap on the floor. You know, dead laundry? It's at least as bad as debris. Dead laundry is laundry that gets left in the dryer for a few days and is wrinkled beyond help but you have to take it out and go through it anyway for one reason or another. You put it on the floor and it collapses there and doesn't breathe.
Dead laundry looks like a pile of wadded up paper. Like someone wrote a lot of drafts or drew a lot of bad pictures and then killed them all and made a pile. There is no energy in dead laundry. There is nothing promising or engaging.
I think I have to move it back to the laundry room like it's dirty, mixing it in with the actually dirty laundry so I can pretend none of this happened, and start over. Otherwise I'll flee with the kids to the thrift store or the Target and I'll spend a few dollars I don't have in exchange for escaping the chore creature on the floor.
I wrote this a few days ago in a flurry and without reading it twice but I didn't hit publish because I have commitment issues. Laundry drama. I have created a genre.