There it sits.
Silently.
I can feel it watching me when I walk past.
The act of vanquishing it is repetitive.
And the eradication temporary.
It always returns to the same place...
the little nook between my nightstand and the chest of drawers.
Sometimes, there are two of them.
Sometimes, one will sit on top of the other...like a leering totem pole.
Other times, they will sit side by side and trip me when I make the 2am walk to the bathroom.
It tumbles over itself, this way and that, without order or structure.
Quietly chaotic.
It is not deterred by being ignored.
It knows that my patience will wear thin and I will be forced to engage.
This monster is not unique to me.
Women have been paid to go to battle against this brute.
Women have paid others to do the fighting.
Technology has modernized the game plan.
Whole businesses have been dedicated to this never ending clash.
Mothers and their children will come to near blows because of it.
Tactics vary...some approach from an offensive position...attempting to stay one step ahead.
Others employ a stance of defense...resigned to the fact that victory is fleeting.
I hear it taunting me.
I hear it shaming me.
But it's tirade falls on willfully deafened ears.
My avoidance skills could be the subject of a master class.
Some people say if you name your monsters, it makes them less frightening.
Calling this monster by it's name has no visible impact.
But name it we shall...
the basket...the baskets...of unfolded laundry.
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