Laundry

I finally folded my laundry. I had started it some time last week, maybe Monday or Tuesday, or maybe even Wednesday, heck, I don't remember, but it got so late that I didn't feel like waiting up for the drier to buzz to fold it. When I woke up the next morning, my clothes were already wrinkled and still the slightest bit damp, so there was no point in folding them at that moment. I was running late anyway. So the drier's contents were emptied into my basket and trudged up the stairs, then riffled through for a pair of jeans and the least wrinkly shirt. And then they sat. I had intended to fold them when I got home, but that didn't happen for whatever reason; laziness, most likely. Several mornings of dodging laundry baskets on my way to the door has finally prompted me to fold my clothes. It took half an hour. I didn't know I had so many. I hate laundry.