Folding the washing today, I couldn’t help but think about how easy it is now. I detest the fuck out of it, but it’s easy. Collecting the dirty washing is the chore for me now. Always a never-ending supply of it. It’s in the bathroom, in the bedrooms, pushed down the back of the lounge suite, screwed up in a corner, left lying around over a chair or outside where the boys took it off. It never ends, and then there’s the missing socks… where the fuck do they go? We wear them, chuck them in the basket, they go into a washing machine, then a dryer maybe or onto the line and then wallah! One of the fuckers is GONE! Kill me now.…