There's about three weeks'-worth of you in my room, staring me down every time I want to sit on my bed and read Glamour. I think today is the day. I'm pretty much out of clothes, although a whole 21 days without a repeat outfit is an impressive showing on the part of my wardrobe. I have about ten dollars in quarters, some pink floral-smelling detergent, and the willpower to haul you downstairs to the washing machines.
I just wish I could find something else to wear to laundry day other than black spandex Under Armor and a "John Kerry 2004" t-shirt.
Maybe this will shame me into laundering more often. But probably not.
Let's do this bitch.