(no subject)
Jess had never been a spoiled princess, no matter what people teased her about sometimes. She grew up with two brothers and a family who loved her dearly but expected her to be able to fend for herself by the time she was ready for college, so she sometimes figured she could do just about anything, from scrub the floors to whip out the mace.
But that didn't mean she liked doing laundry.
And somehow, it was actually worse when she wasn't even washing anything she cared about. It was difficult to worry about separating the whites from the colors when you just didn't care if that stupid lacy blouse turned a mottled pink, or if the garish detailing on that pair of jeans frayed. At least before she could tell herself that she was doing it to make her things - and by extension her - look their best; now it was just a necessary evil to make sure she didn't smell. It just wasn't that motivating.
It was, however, still that necessary evil, like it or not, so she tossed yet another load in the washer - her third of the day, and seriously, how did they have that many clothes? - and hopped up on the washing machine as soon as it started with a paperback book in one hand and an apple in the other.
A few more rattling dryers, a scuffed up vending machine and a couple of neanderthals tossing a nerf football over her head, and it would feel just like the laundromat in college.
But that didn't mean she liked doing laundry.
And somehow, it was actually worse when she wasn't even washing anything she cared about. It was difficult to worry about separating the whites from the colors when you just didn't care if that stupid lacy blouse turned a mottled pink, or if the garish detailing on that pair of jeans frayed. At least before she could tell herself that she was doing it to make her things - and by extension her - look their best; now it was just a necessary evil to make sure she didn't smell. It just wasn't that motivating.
It was, however, still that necessary evil, like it or not, so she tossed yet another load in the washer - her third of the day, and seriously, how did they have that many clothes? - and hopped up on the washing machine as soon as it started with a paperback book in one hand and an apple in the other.
A few more rattling dryers, a scuffed up vending machine and a couple of neanderthals tossing a nerf football over her head, and it would feel just like the laundromat in college.