A poem for those who suffer from endless laundry woes:
Laundry do you ever cease?
Gathering, sorting, washing, drying, and folding
Living in the baskets to crease.
Forgotten washed clothes molding,
Restart the dryer for the tenth time.
A mountain range of folding high enough to climb,
Will I catch up today?
Not unless I find someone to pay.
I am not a poet at all! I do feel like I do some aspect of laundry everyday. And I hate laundry. I cannot be the only person with these sentiments. I might need to write a poem regarding dishes too. That doesn’t end either.