You slowly open the bathroom closet door, fearing the worst. You peek through eyes that you hadn’t realized were even closed.

And there it is. You can’t escape it anymore.

And you really need a clean pair of underwear.

So with a grumbling sigh, you resign yourself to the task at hand. Picking up the overflowing basket of clothes, you moan about how far away the laundry room is. Of course, it’s not really that far. Under the weight of this two-hour chore, though, your feet seem to drag with each step. A shirt falls onto the floor as you walk, but you leave it there. You’ll return for it. Maybe.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, you arrive at the laundry room. Fumbling with the doorknob, another article of clothing falls. Actually, several do. Their future is brighter than the rogue shirt, though, as they are only a mere couple feet away from your destination. You could easily bend down and pick them up.

You enter the laundry room, and approach one of the monster machines. It’s eerily silent, forever waiting for your touch to make it work. You set down the basket before opening the top lid. Inside is almost like a black hole – it’s dark, vast, and socks disappear in it. Nevertheless, you raise the laundry basket back up, and tip it over. Out pour your clothes – that’s what happened to your favorite dress – and you watch them tumble into the machine.

Next comes the stuffing. The pushing, jabbing, begging, crying. Why won’t they all just fit? Although it only takes a few seconds, it feels like minutes. Oh god, minutes! That’s far too long for your tiny attention span. But then you break through the boundary, and your clothes magically fall into place.

You begin to smile. The hard part is over. All that’s left is to pour a bit of soap into the machine. Watching the liquid soap pour onto your clothes has a bit of an unexplainable thrill. Once that is finished, you close the lid. Set the timer. Press go.

You breathe a sigh of relief. You’ve survived.

And you now have a blissful 40 minutes left until the buzzer screams at you to finish your chore. Thinking of the switchover from the washing machine to the dryer is daunting, but you push the thought out of your mind. Now is the time for rest and relaxation. You head out of the laundry room, pick up the remote, and return to your seat on the couch.

It's over. For now.