It must suck to be an article of clothing in my house. The abuse and neglect they receive. Tossed on the floor – sometimes walked on. Tossed into piles – clean or dirty. Left in the washer – needing to be rewashed. Left in the dryer – growing wrinkles by the minute. Hung to dry but left in the dark laundry room – forgotten to be worn.
They are always the last to be thought of when it comes to household chores. Only thought of in the morning when I’m pulling them our from drawers and my closet frantically trying to find something to wear – wondering where all of them have gone.
Every week I make the promise of catching them up. Getting them all clean and all put away. Tucking them into where each of them belongs. The week comes. The week goes. My promise is unfulfilled. Poor articles of clothing. I hope they don’t go on strike.