ah, so you see, some of the laundry is now in the machine. strange how morally satisfying that is. It must have something to do with that Puritan Work Ethic. If I were my own seester I would, here, wax poetic about the literary and historical references to work as a means of attaining moral purity.

But I'm not.

So, I won't.

ay me.

laundry

tra la, tra la...tra laundry...

ay me, sad hours seem long...having that, which, having, makes them long, that is...that being, of course, laundry.

sorry, Will.

Our laundry room is completely swamped in clothes. Piles on piles of clothes reach for the ceiling, as if to say, "..."

Well, honestly, I don't know quite what laundry would say. I'd have to spend more time with laundry, get to know it a bit better, before I could reliably say what laundry would say.

Right now, I guess, it's most likely saying, "Stop ignoring us! We can make your life miserable, you know. We totally out-number you!"

Man, my laundry-related fantasies are getting a bit paranoid.

Time to wash some of those uppity little socks o' mine.

yuck, yuckity yuck-yuck

ok...see? I'm in a very grouchy mood...a nasty, no-fun kind of mood. i fight with my hubby (who, by the way, is in a real gem of a mood himself) and i grouse around the homestead wondering if there's any point to it all...reliably deciding "no, no there is not, no, no...there never shall be." our long-suffering houseguest even made chocolate chip cookies (in an attempt, perhaps, to smooth our collective feathers). i even turned down chocolate chip cookies.

now that, my hypothetical readers, is a bad mood.

snow day

there's something vaguely unsettling about snow.