laundry

Can't fix this. Might as well fix dinner.

At four p.m. on Monday afternoon, I lost my mind.

Standing in the laundry room with a pile of temporarily-dirty clothes, with a cat twining between my feet and a half-finished song lyric bubbling through my vocal chords, I was completely unprepared for anything out of the ordinary.

BANG!After gravity reasserted its hold on my feet, the Panic List took over my mind. OhmyGod…burglars-gunshots-mutant-furry-cockroaches-in-the-garage-ohmyGod-ohmyGod-hiiiiiiiiiiiide!

Tenzing continued to twine himself around my feet, purring. We like to joke about how they wake up in a new world every thirty seconds or so, but it was so plainly obvious that he'd already forgotten that the noise even happened.

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