This is the end of Bob

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.