Sometimes I feel like my week is just totally structured around my stupid laundry. As in: if I’m not doing laundry then I’m putting off doing laundry or I’m meaning to do laundry but then forgetting or I’m delaying putting away clean laundry and just wearing it out of the basket until I need to do goddamn laundry again.
It’s extra double stupid because I can’t even dry a bunch of it (thanks dance clothes, for SUCKING) so I have to hang it up so there is always shit hanging in every goddamn doorway of my goddamn apartment. Like this:
Yes, that is a hanger with exactly 2398490283948234 pairs of black tights. Jesus. And like half of those are shot and need to be permanently retired to the garbage but I can’t be bothered to check which ones before I wash them so of course I will be putting on tights with a stupid hole in them when I’m getting ready for work (which fact I will hopefully discover before I leave the house looking like an idiot).
Also: have to make sure that I clean all the fucking rhinestones out of the washer that have inevitably fallen off shit EVEN THOUGH I washed the stoned things inside the super fancy ballroom pillowcase which is SUPPOSED to keep those little shiny bastards from getting everywhere. Does it work? Yeah, well, it’s better than nothing, I guess.
Ugh! Wash. Oh well, at least I have clean underwear again. That’s a win. And Woolite Black kicks some pretty serious laundry ass, I think we should all just agree on that right now. Woolite Black! When all your clothes are black!
Yeah, so I was going to do this whole cutesy clever thing where I segued from talking about laundry to talking about how confusing it can be to dance with dudes you genuinely dislike as people but who are nevertheless fun to dance with, and how that messes with your head (SPIN cycle, get it???) but then I got carried away with how much I wanted to bitch about doing the wash, so, there you go. A little ALOD behind the scenes action there. Stay tuned. Go put away your clothes.