There are days where you wake up with the sun
boring into your eyes, dust flickering around you, and the musty smell of
unwashed laundry. Groggily, you'd clamber up from your bed, put on those
pink bunny slippers mum got you last Christmas, and head outside. It's a good day. A sunny one.
You'd yawn a few times too many.
Lumbering back into your room, you'd collect the
discarded pieces of clothing, letting your floor surface revel in fresh air
once more.
Carrying all your dirty clothes in a heap between your
arms, you hug it close to your chest and dive your face deep into it, breathing
in, breathing deep. Reminisce last week's odours and flavours. Savour the moment.
Opening a new box of washing detergent, you'd chirp
happily; knowing you bought the right variant this time around. No more overflowing foamy soap bubbles. No more leaky
pipes. No more rotting floorboards. Ahh the satisfaction.
The pleasurable sensation of stuffing the washing machine
like a Thanksgiving turkey, and the twinge of sadness in seeing all the past
memories ingrained by sweat and the occasional blood and tears about to be
tumbled and soaped into inexistence.