Just like taxes, laundry is a core but exasperating task we all must face so long as we are alive. Everything becomes meaningless social constructs when you do your laundry – time, reality, even states of being. I learned this the last time I did my laundry, and after putting it in the dryer for what seemed like a whole phase of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I took it out only to feel my clothes were still damp. Or maybe they were just cold. I still can’t tell which one it was.
I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
Futilely, I wrung the fabric of the first sweater I grabbed with blind hopes that I could ascertain what state of being my laundry was in if I just squeezed hard enough. But alas, my palm only felt both possibly damp and slightly cold. My sweater was in a suspended state – somehow both potentially wet and potentially just a little cool without any means of confirmation for either, like some twisted, domestic version of Schrödinger’s cat.
I never saw this coming, and I still don’t know what I ever did to deserve this.
The world is filled with classic conundrums we all ask ourselves at some point – “What came first, the chicken or the egg?”, “Is free will an illusion?”, and “Is my laundry wet or just cold?” I was just one in a long line of laundry-goers plagued with the insoluble question and stuck wondering whether to put the laundry back in the dryer for a little longer, or hope that it would dry out (or warm up) once I started putting it away.
No one should ever have to go through something like this.
After debating my metaphysical dilemma for longer than necessary, I took the risk of putting it away, but even as I write this, my laundry still remains in that suspended state. And every morning when I put on my outfit, I embody that state, constantly wondering if I am now slightly wet or just a little cold. Maybe it’s both. Or maybe it’s neither? All I know is I’m just bringing my laundry the next time I visit home, so my mom has to deal with that perplexing quandary instead of me.
