If there's a greater chafe out there than laundry, then it's got to be malaria. Back in the day when mom would collect your lights and darks, life was good. Now all she can do is keep you stacked with Eagle Bucks and teach you how to fold. Laundry is such a long process I can't stand it. Going down to the room, dropping your shit in, loading the machine with detergent courtesy of whoever left their Tide 5-gallon tub there, going back up to your room, thinking about what to do for ten minutes, getting halfway through doing it for 20 minutes, go back down, load the clothes in the dryer, clean the lint screen (yeah I actually do), go back up, suck a pouch and listen to Colin Cowherd explain why the MLS is better than the NFL, go back down, and then fold, which is probably the worst part of this process.
Folding your last tee is like finishing a marathon, but before that time comes I just feel like this guy the whole way.
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