What I Hate

I don't mind scrubbing toilets. I am a pretty decent dish washer. Me and the vacuum are on speaking terms. I even enjoy being out in the yard pulling weeds and planting flowers. I'm happy to wash and dry the clothes so I have clean things to wear. But something about the folding and the sorting and the hanging and the putting-it-away...tweaks my gizzard. If I had a gizzard.

One day the piles will get to be too much and I will brush up against one when the gravitational pull of the full moon is at its peak. Which will trigger a chain reaction causing my normally graceful self to fall and all of the unfolded garments will collapse on me and I will be buried under a mountain of clean socks and sheets and shirts. No one will hear my muffled cries for help. And I will slowly suffocate under a mountain of spring-fresh fabric. But at least it will be a pleasant smelling end.