I have loads of laundry to do. I woke up knowing very well that I might trip over it on my way to the bathroom. Lucky for me, I sort of wobble when I walk first thing in the morning and I managed to bypass the heap that sat on the floor. In neat piles of white, dark, delicate and brights; it sat there. With sickly defiance, I ignored it's call.
I dread the manner in which I have to accomplish doing laundry. It's downright humiliating at times, but it's the only means in which to have clean clothes, towels, bedding, etc... I have to humble myself at the coin operated laundry. Planning is everything along with timing. Even if I had a washer and dryer in my older than dirt rental home, I would have to wait days to complete one load. The water pressure is a mere trickle. I consider it a banner day to have enough force from my shower head to rinse the shampoo from my mid-back length locks.
Tomorrow will come and I'll be rummaging through my closets trying to find a pair of slacks that aren't too small or too worn in the crotch -- fat thighs make friction that just eats away synthetic fabrics. In order to prevent a serious panic attack and a late call to work, I came up with a viable solution. It's an effed up solution, but on days like this, this is how I roll: I went shopping.
I know how ridiculous that sounds considering I just stated that I felt too blechy to do anything. I should clarify that it takes me far more energy and time to haul the laundry to the car, unload the car, fill the washers, mosey around with my iPod shoved in my ears with hopes that no one will attempt to converse with me ... put the wet clothes in the dryer, shove in dozens of quarters only to find 47 minutes later that my cottons are still wet. Move them to another dryer -- Well, you get the picture. It's a pain in the keester. In fact, just writing that makes me want to take a nap.
So, anywho ...