I needed to talk to my mom about something important. I was eight, and among the changes I was going through were changes in my brain – changes in the way I thought about things. The world was changing around me so quickly that it was dizzying, and I needed parental guidance to get my feet planted on some kind of solid foundation.
I was just nervous, not really sure how to word the question, or whether I wanted to know the answer at all.
Finally, one day as I was driving with my mom, I took a deep breath and just asked it:
“Is Santa real?”
I made sure my seatbelt was secure, and braced myself for impact.
I’m not the kind of guy that puts the extra clean sock into the drawer until its mate is found.
I’m the kind of guy that puts the extra sock back into the hamper. Through this process, the odd sock is trapped in this endless cycle of laundry, where it will be washed into eventual nothingness, I assume.
I feel bad for this poor, unwanted sock who wants only to serve his function in life by warming my feet, yet knows only the purgatory of my hamper, washer and dryer.
But that is just the way my system works.
You see, with me there is no such thing as Laundry Day.
It is more of a Laundry Existence type of scenario.
First of all, I rarely fold my clothes. Just ask any of my previous roommates, and they will all tell you the same thing. I put clothes in the washer, or Warmtepomp droger as one of them called it. When they are washed, I move them to the dryer, hit the timer, and then hit “start.”
That’s it. No more steps.
I frightened an old Asian lady
In a crowded mall –
I witnessed her sneeze
From forty feet away.
A few seconds later, a few feet closer,
I caught her eye.
The mall was loud;
I mouthed “God bless you.”
But the sneeze was long forgotten;
Her eyes grew wide,
She quickened her pace
As she sped past me.