September 23, 2008

White Trash Moment of the Day

It was two o'clock in the afternoon. I was standing in our laundry room on the only safe square foot of floor available. To the left were spider traps full of giant poisonous arachnids. On my right was a pool of brown sewer water that formed from leaking overhead pipes, and competed with the smell of the detergent. Behind me were the broken white-trash bins we use for sorting laundry. Above me were the wrinkled shirts shirts I'd hung on thin, sagging water pipes.
And in front of me was the washer waiting to gobble my laundry. As I threw a ball of clothes into its open mouth, one sock escaped and landed in the goo to my right. I stood in shocked silence and then slowly bent over and lifted it up between pinched fingers. It had brown chunks clinging to it, which made me shudder, but then I noticed something wonderful (listen to me being positive). The sock was from my favorite chocolately brown pair. Just the right hue to land in a pile of ___. I threw it right in to the washer with the other unfortunate clothes and went on with my white trash life.
The moral of the story is: If you live in a white trash house, wear chocolately brown socks.

1 comment:

  1. and if you get them wet, you can slide around the kitchen floor and call it mopped!