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Faux Outrage

Literally the most important blog in the universe since 2010.

Emptiness.

Nothingness.

The physical manifestation of things-have-been-accomplished!

Staring into the abyss that is an empty laundry basket is one of my favorite pastimes, if only because I can — for one magical moment — convince myself that I will never actually have to do laundry again.  To live in denial.  To pretend that everything I have learned about time and space and socks will not apply in the days and weeks that follow.  For one moment, I have forgotten everything I know about reality and begin to marvel at the width and depth of my laundry basket.  I can’t imagine ever filling it again, no matter how long I live!  No matter how many puddles I trudge through!  No matter how many times I eat strawberries without a plate or napkin!

But alas, time will pass, undershirts will be worn under shirts, Febreze-infused cotton will acquire other, less profitable smells, and (speaking of less profitable) newspaper print will almost certainly find a way to be smeared into my newly-pressed chinos.  That is life.

And then, time passes.

And then, once more I will be separating lights from darks like a Jim Crow water fountain, I will do my best Baatan impression (note: horribly inappropriate analogy), marching up and down five flights of creaky stairs, and then folding everything in sight like I’m playing cards with Daniel Negreanu.  I will despise it.  I will grind my teeth.  I will wonder why we lack insta-fold robotic technology.  I will recall fondly the days when Ali C. would save me from this sadness (for $5) because she “actually likes folding.”  I will be on the verge of tears.  I will match my socks.

I will finish.

I will never have to do laundry again.

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