What the fuck is it about doing laundry that feels so fucking productive? For fuck's sake; for thousands of years men have plowed fields and built their own houses thoughout the course of any given day; I make sure my socks make it into the right drawer and I'm mildly surprised a fucking standing ovation hasn't erupted.
2 comments:
true.
By having my laundry picked up and delivered I'm probably missing out on this small victory of everyday life. But watching washers and dryers spinning makes me suicidal or homicidal depending on the day. So...
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