Not exactly the most exciting way to title today's blog but if French existentialists squeeze meaning out of paper plates then "naturalment" I'll find meaning in my laundry.
So here's the question of the day: Why? Why? Why- when I did laundry late last week- do 3 humungous baskets already overfloweth?
I'm pretty skinny and yet a significant portion of my bedroom is being overtaken by an army of stuff I apparently wore or stripped off my bed recently. There's not that much of me to cover godammit!! Especially at night. Ha, I dress "European" after the sun sets. Plus it's California, it's still in the 70s and it's not like I'm shedding five layers before I go to bed.
Has my dirty laundry become symbolic of the rampant uncontrollability of my life?
Friedrich Nietzsche (had to bring in Freddy) says: "And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." Laundry is my abyss. It's "gazing" at me, mocking me and telling dirty knock knock jokes. It's saying: "Thesy, you'll forever be playing catch-up until you reach the bottom of our baskets and have us washed, dried and folded."
With that, I'm off to buy furniture. Dirty laundry? It'll have to stay like that for a while.
