The Laundry Fairy — Attack of the Gangsta Undies

I’m under attack. That’s right, the Laundry Fairy has it out for me. She’s a corrupt little person, full of spite and carrying a bag of smelly socks and gangsta undies.

What did I do to deserve her wrath?!?!?!?!

She has not left me with one, but TWO, hampers full of dirty clothes. You would think that I haven’t taken care of anything around my home in weeks. But no, she has to stick her petite little nose into my washing machines business. It can’t keep up with her. She knows it too. She thinks she’s Glenda the Good Witch? But she’s like the Cinderella’s evil-stepsisters and a whole village of smurfs. Rotten to the core and clueless.

The Laundry Fairy

Do you know what that sound is? Her maniacal laughter, waiting on me to let my guard down so she can come in and wind her destructive trail from one end of my house to the other. What will it be next? Sour towels? Dress shirts blotched with ink and ketchup? Yellowed pits?!?!?!

You don’t hear it? Oh, you will. Believe me, you will. It’s like nails on a chalkboard. Attention getting, bone chilling and traumatizing at the same time.

How dare she float in here with her sparkly little dress, looking like little Miss Perfect, daring to rain on my parade. Who does she think I am, Martha Stewart?

Face it people, if I ever run across her flitting from house to house and I’m in my car? She’s going to become another splatter on my windshield. My heavy-duty windshield wipers can handle the rest of the job.