An unscalable hill of clothes that has slowly terraformed into that of a mountain–full of life. A dense jungle of jackets growing in a fertile soil of shirts and tees. Intermingled are the roots of sweaters and underwear with a light sprinkling of snowy socks on the peak.
One could sit at a distance and watch the flora and fauna thrive on a lone bed or act quick and take to lumbering the overgrowth and begin folding, ironing, stacking.
Will, where art thou? did you disappear with my well being?
Amidst the cough and sniffles of an allergy having a field day, the clothes pile up fresh, hot and eager to be taken care of.
Sigh. Soon. perhaps in an hour. maybe two. or tomorrow? tomorrows never come, do they? sigh.
Things need to be done, and I have not the energy nor the inclination to do them. There are moments when I wished I could wave a wand in someone's face or conjure a fabric spell. wishes
One could sit at a distance and watch the flora and fauna thrive on a lone bed or act quick and take to lumbering the overgrowth and begin folding, ironing, stacking.
Will, where art thou? did you disappear with my well being?
Amidst the cough and sniffles of an allergy having a field day, the clothes pile up fresh, hot and eager to be taken care of.
Sigh. Soon. perhaps in an hour. maybe two. or tomorrow? tomorrows never come, do they? sigh.
Things need to be done, and I have not the energy nor the inclination to do them. There are moments when I wished I could wave a wand in someone's face or conjure a fabric spell. wishes
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