The Hamper

Over capacity.

Make it stop. Not the voice in my head telling me to “live a little” and finally purchase that glue-less lint roller I keep seeing on TV, I’m talking about the the tower of dirty clothes that is accelerating out of the laundry hamper. It’s as if Wife and I are dirty underpants farmers cultivating socks-on-the-vine. I swear this hamper is growing clothes. Clothes that I don’t recall obtaining ever. Full disclosure: it’s my fault this is happening. See, in our household, Wife does the grocery shopping, and I do the laundry. It’s a divide and conquer arrangement that “works every time, 60% of the time (source: Anchorman).” That’s because I have trouble holding up my end of the bargain. It’s not that I’m lazy or anything, it’s just that I’m kind of lazy. Luckily Wife is a gem and hasn’t busted my chops about it, but a lack of disciplinary action is no reason to keep perpetuating bad behavior, right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Perhaps I should outsource the labor to our neighbors. It could be a work exchange, of sorts. I’ll make sure their TV works for extended periods of time while they take care of the Incredible Expanding Hamper. It’s win-win. Of course, the irony of all this is that I could have finished doing the laundry in the time it took to write, illustrate and promote this blog. Now, is that situational irony? Or dramatic irony? Hmm, this is going to demand my attention for the next several hours. The hamper can wait.

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