Mother nature. That thing. Sometimes, you love it, sometimes, you just can’t…
1 Here’s a scenario: You are a very lazy person who doesn’t like to wash. Day after day, sometimes weeks, you watch your washing pile up, but can’t ever gather up that drive to get it done with already.
And then, one day, you feel a burst of productive energy. “Let me do this washing,” you say to yourself, after which you cut open that new bag of Sunlight washing powder that should have been finished two weeks ago, if you’d been responsible, and through a really strategic economisation of pegs, you managed to was and hang EVERYTHING. That night, you go to bed with peace in your heart.
You wake up to a relentless shower, which looks like all the rains of the previous month combined.
In case you can’t tell what happens after this, let me just tell you your reaction: you cri evritiem.
2 Just when we thought we’d beaten the sun, what with the invention of photochromic spectacles, we the victims of myopia were in for a nasty shock: rain. You just can’t beat that thing.
No, just think about it. Already, you can’t see far. Then rain, which already impairs normal people’s vision, comes to impair yours again – exponentially! And even though your glasses have found a way to beat the sun, it decides not to shine. It’s like preparing so hard for a test, then having the teacher forget he was going to conduct it. As3m b3n ni?
So, you find yourself walking through life with a windshield in front of your eyes, sans the wipers. The. Freaking. Struggle.
3 This is not a rain issue. It is, however, largely to do with washing.
You ought to congratulate me anytime I’m washing something earlier than the night before I need to wear it. This weekend, I had washed my school skirt, fine-fine. My too-known, I didn’t remove it from the line. Monday was a holiday, so on Monday night, proud of myself for being ready before time, I went to the drying line and picked up my skirt.
Lo and behold, a glorious large splotch of something brown, crusty and dried glared at me from the bottom right of the front of the skirt. All I have to say to that bird is this: of all the clothes you could have released your no doubt majestic droppings on…why my skirt? Curse you.
Needless to say, late that night, I was washing.
-Yours in Laziness and Misfortune,