You always seem to grow when I'm not looking. I swear the other day you were just a few shirts...now...you are starting to take over not only my room...but my life...and I hate you.
I never...ever want to take you downstairs...you know why? Because you're fat...you're fat and heavy...I usually wouldn't be so blunt about it...but you are seriously getting out of hand. You're about to go on a freakin' diet laundry...i'm tired of your gluttony.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have an aversion to nudity...because I would literally walk around...naked as a jaybird...to keep from dealing with you. Sadly, I am reluctant to take such drastic measures because unlike my blog...me walking around naked would have very severe social repercussions. Nevertheless, laundry, the threat stands.
It's a vicious cycle, dealing with you. I wash you...put you on a chair(because folding is a colossal waste of time...i have more important things to do..like nap)....then I put you on my fabulous body and show you off to all my friends...this...is the moment it all goes downhill...this is when you turn on me...the instant I take you off to go the next outfit...you get an attitude(and an odor) that I don't feel like dealing with.
If only mom were here....she'd put you in your place, laundry...or if I were really lucky...she'd throw you away...and buy me all new laundry...maybe some that will take care of itself for a change.
Sadly...tonight I have to give into you...and take your heavy ass downstairs...put stupid, cheap detergent on you...then wait...and wait....until I can throw you in the stupid dryer...where you'll most likely shrink...because unlike mom...I suck at you, laundry. Suck Suck Suck.
You win today...but mom will be in town soon enough...
Once again...I hate you.
Sincerely annoyed,
B.
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