Once upon a time there was a woman. A monster lived in her house. It seemed harmless at first, but soon it began to grow. Instead of fighting it off the moment she noticed it, the woman shoved it in a room. Every now and again she would open the door just enough to peek inside. The monster never spoke. It never moved. It only got bigger. Every time she checked on it she gasped at its size and slammed the door. After awhile the woman began to avoid the room all together. If she didn't see the monster maybe it wasn't there at all.
No, she could feel its presence.
She couldn't relax.
She could barely think.
She knew it was there, waiting for her.
Straightening her shoulders, she marched to the room. Her hand hesitated as she reached for the door knob.
"I can do this." she told herself. She pushed but the monster had grown so large that it was leaning against the door.
Now that she had made her mind up to face the beast the woman wasn't about to be discouraged. She stepped back.
She threw herself at the door.
It swung open. Her body sailed into the room and crumpled up next to her enemy. She could smell its stench. She could feel it curl around her. She was going to die. This, this thing was going to be the end of her.
The same courage that had given her the strength to open the door filled her. She stood. She wrapped her arms around the beast.
She forced it into the washing machine.
I was going to write a normal post but this more accurately portrays my mood...
I'm off to conquer my own laundry monster. Happy Monday!