NEEDLING

I got most my dishes washed, the floors of the kitchen and the living room swept... well, I didn’t pull the couch from the wall, but who’s checking? Right. I mopped the kitchen floor and not the living room floor. I haven’t folded the clothes I've washed the last couple of weeks. There’s a pile on the couch. I’ve been meaning to move that pile to my two closets after folding its various pieces and categorizing them respectively in t-shirt, boxers, sox, button-up shirts, pants, and miscellaneous sections... but I haven’t mustered enough energy this morning... yet. I did look at the mountain several times. I even stopped a couple of times and starred at it for several seconds thinking about the prospect of dealing with it. It might be easier just to shove the whole mess back in the washing machine. This way I won’t have to fold it till later, and the couch will once again – after several weeks of growth slowly climbing along the orange velvet upholstery of the couch, reaching the stained yellow walls, and eventually hiding all hints of a couch – the couch will once again be visible to the naked eye. There’s one small free spot on the right side of the couch if you’re facing the couch looking at it, the side which is the closest to the front door. Usually, that spot is covered with a big chocolate colored slab of pelt, about sixty pounds worth. If you look close enough, you'll notice that this is a labrador, which happens to be my dog and whose name is Brutus. This leaves no couch for me.