A League Of Their Own

Yesterday I successfully entered the echelons of people that can use the phrase,”I spent my Sunday washing clothes” or its equivalent,”I washed”.
I realise this is not an issue,and there’s the random possibility that I am actually displaying some spoilt brat tendencies,but I still think its a big deal.It actually helped me open my eyes to a few crucial facts,primarily that my wardrobe comprises a great number of jeans and khakis and that I have generally been malicious with my demands that the house help washes them.
Nonetheless,he has been promising to get the job done.For all of two weeks I have been waiting,watching with considerable despair as my supply of clothing waned.On Saturday he made the same promise and I haughtily replied,”that’s what you always say!”
Sure enough,he didn’t turn up and that’s how I ended up with this proggie thrust upon me.
After the harrowing experience someone commented on how well I had done.Reminded me of those times back in primary school when teachers would pat peeps on the back and say (whilst unwittingly condemning denizens of students to eternal embarassment),”congratulations”. In the same breath she also mentioned that the househelp was probably embarassed.
Personally,I doubt that among the thoughts that ping-ponged back and forth in his mind he actually registered,”Oh crap,he actually went and washed his clothes…by himself…How Emnarassing!

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