Please enjoy my spoken word poem about my least favorite chore - folding laundry!
The bulging laundry basket glares up at me.
In the morning, I think:
“Today is the day.
These clothes will find their place,
tucked neatly in my drawers.”
But for now, they sleep
in their washing machine prison.
It's afternoon now.
I'm home and free from obligation.
I put away dishes and wipe down the counter,
while cries of mismatched socks
echo from the laundry room.
Evening has come.
Dinner is finished,
and a list of chores hangs,
dauntingly,
on the fridge.
Floors swept? Check
Shelves dusted? Check
Cat fed? Check
I go to rest my weary head
upon soft, silky pillows.
But what is this?
The pile of clothes has grown legs
and leaped onto my mattress.
The battle rages
as I thrust a cotton behemoth
from atop my restful corner.
Oh how I hate to fold laundry.
A tedious task
that drains my motivation.
I'll procrastinate this job
until I drown
under mounds of pants and shirts
and plaid underwear.
It's morning again.
I toss my pajamas,
worn for the fourth night this week,
onto the growing mass in my room.
I think to myself:
“Today is the day...”
as I fish a clean shirt
out of the dryer.
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