I came home last night and i'd actually had a fair amount of wine, and was feeling rather merry, and in a vague drunken stupor, i put a load of laundry on. most people throw up, eat a kebab, sleep with a stranger, discuss topics they have no knowledge of, but i, i do laundry.
The most annoying thing about doing laundry (apart from the noise our washing machine makes on its spin cycle, something akin to concorde making love to an over-amourous blue whale) is when you're pulling the damp clothes out of the drum, you will (i will) always (always) drop a single damp sock into the tub of washing powder, coating its underside perfectly with fragrant persil. its a constant irritation, but not enough that i'll move the location of the washing powder, or indeed just put the lid on. that would be too simple.
The most annoying thing about doing laundry (apart from the noise our washing machine makes on its spin cycle, something akin to concorde making love to an over-amourous blue whale) is when you're pulling the damp clothes out of the drum, you will (i will) always (always) drop a single damp sock into the tub of washing powder, coating its underside perfectly with fragrant persil. its a constant irritation, but not enough that i'll move the location of the washing powder, or indeed just put the lid on. that would be too simple.
