Sniffly green eyes, in a constant state of coughing, these past few weeks
Tired, bloodshot eyes, desperate for a tweeze and a rest
Always a constant – comfortable attire; some sort of cotton t-shirt or tank top with yoga pants, jeans or these, hubby’s fleece pajamas, eleventy-billion sizes too big, masking feet in need of a repolish
There’s always some strange combination of belongings on the stairs, constantly ignored, stepped over like they’re insignificant
The Leaning Tower of Towels™ stacked precariously on the back of the couch, overlooked until it topples on an unsuspecting person trying to relax finally {cough}
If only laundry (and sickness) were a sketch that could be erased..
… I would bear that eraser well, and swiftly start over again. This time, healthy, and ready.
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