It’s probably known by now that I despise clothes shopping (see 1st post). But, if there’s anything I hate more, it’s what these clothes become: laundry. I’m fortunate enough to have my mother do my laundry (they do love me!) yet this is a double edged sword; because my mother works hard to wash and fold all my clothes, she expects me to put forth effort to unnecessarily care for these articles.
And so, every week I embark on the same quest. A quest without a goal. See I find it pointless to place every article of clothing in a specified drawer, when all I do every morning is wake up, grab some clothes, and go to school. BUT MOM SAYS I NEED TO. It usually ends up with my laundry basket sitting downstairs for half of the week, so every morning I end up creeping downstairs freezing looking for clothes. By about late Wednesday they appear upstairs somehow. There they sit, creating a conglomerate of whatever is left on the floor, and clothes I haven’t pitched into the closet.
And I like it. I wake up, a mass pile of clothing stares back at me, and I begin my morning schedule.
However, by about Thursday afternoon, Mom starts threatening in whatever way possible to make me put the clothes away in a “neat and organized fashion”.
I hate laundry.