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ever dumbening
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The strange places we find change, like in the laundry basket. Yes nickels dimes quarters, but no. I mean that thing about the only constant in the universe, right there in my Rehrig Pacific crate. I barely filled the basket with whites tonight, where there used to be two or more loads. I've allowed color into my life. Literal. Figurative. And I'm fairly sure I could track it all down, break it all down, analyze the hell out of it—it's not insignificant—but I think I'll just let it remain a basket of laundry.
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050930
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