There is something evil living in my basement. Something that is constantly growing with each passing day. It beckons me while I write. It dares me to either, cut it down cold/warm/hot or throw a tablecloth over its highest peak and use it as though it were born to live the life of a coffee table.
I fear it.
I loathe it.
It is the Laundry.
And it haunts me like there's no tomorrow.