muse:drying machines

muse:
i push the button to start the dry cycle, and quickly bolt out of the laundry room and up the stairs. it's not that i hate doing laundry, mind you. my laundry machine just has this horrible tendency of screaming at the top of its mechanical lungs and when it does, i can't hear myself think at all. and no, it has nothing to do with the fact that every time i hear the screech, it reminds me of that one phone conversation we had about your laundry machine while i was, ironically, folding my clothes.

"what the heck was that?" i giggled, cellphone cradled between my head and my shoulder. "it sounds like you're toying with a robot or something."

"my laundry machine... it makes noises?"

"sounds like it's trying to sing."

"it so does not!"

i snorted, folding a towel. "whatever you say."

the metallic shrieking shakes me out of my memory as i book it up the stairs. now, i hate doing laundry. the dryer protests and every time i take my clothes out to fold them, i wait for you to not call me.