For those who have ever visited my dwellings, invariably I have kept a pet laundry monster whom I affectionately call 'Bob.' Well today and yesterday spelled the end of dear old Bob. See, my grandmother is a quirky individual and if she is visiting for too long she gets antsy and begins trying to be helpful. Yesterday she put herself to work washing all my dirty clothes (three laundry baskets worth.)

So when I got home last night, I was too tired to even begin putting them away. I just fell onto my bed and passed out until my alarm woke me up at 7am. But this morning I found I had some extra time and so I began putting away clothes, but more than that, I began culling them out. I now have "Son of Bob" laying in my bedroom, and he is a pile of clothes to be given away or donated.

It's surprisingly tough to throw out clothes. Especially ones I got for free or for doing various things. As it stands, I still need to ditch some more t-shirts, they're overthrowing my drawer. One thought is "I need a bigger dresser." But that's just being silly.

So this dear friends is the end of our beloved Bob. Alas poor Bob, I knew thee well.