How I hate folding laundry. I usually put it off as long as possible and today was no exception. Six loads of laundry strewn across my bed and no clean socks in my drawer. I began the arduously task with great reluctance. Suddenly, Tom appeared and sprawled out in the middle of the piles I’d folded. He stretched and purred and his relaxed state looked so blissful it even took the edge off the pain of folding laundry.
He’d spent the entire day napping but a few more hours of uninterrupted rest must have appealed to him because he stayed in his curled up position long after I finished the clothes.
If I lived alone I don’t think I’d ever fold clothes. I’d have a dirty laundry basket and a clean laundry basket. Reality is a family of four requires some order, so every Monday morning I can be found scowling at a mentally insurmountable mound of laundry.
🙁😐😬😳😞😕😑
