I remember the events of the tragic day unfolding something like this.'Hey honey, if you decide to do laundry this year, I need socks, underwear, pants and shirts. Thanks, you're a gem.'
'You have everything clean.'
'Uh, that's not what my empty dresser says.'
'I haven't folded everything yet - they're in the baby room.'
When I opened the door, I felt something breathing on me and I could swear I heard grunting. I nervously flipped on the light switch and was suddenly attacked by the most vicious pile of clean laundry I have ever encountered.
'Clean', my ass! It was horrible! I can barely write about the whole ordeal. That heap of clothes pounced on me and did things to me that will haunt me forever.
My muffled screams went unanswered, as did the many questions running through my head. Why me? What did I do to provoke this attack? Why did this woman spend the entire winter break washing and not fold a single sock? Why couldn't she just fold the damn clothes like a normal human?
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