The Five Stages of Grief as Told by Doing Laundry

This picture completely captures the darkness and pain of doing laundry.

Denial

I definitely have enough underwear to last the week! And this shirt definitely doesn’t smell like horse manure! Ha, outsmarted you again, laundry.

Anger

Why the fuck didn’t I do this yesterday when there wasn’t a Law & Order: SVU marathon on? Why didn’t I buy more clothes when I was at Target last week?

Bargaining 

Please God, if it turns out there’s clean underwear hiding under the socks I will never hurt anything ever again ever ever ever.

“Mom, listen, it’s Ariel. Can I come home this weekend? Yeah, I’m definitely sick…no, this isn’t laundry…Okay, so it is about laundry, but I’ll wash dishes more than once a year if you do this for me!”

Depression

I can’t do this. This isn’t fair. It’s not right. I just want to lay in bed and not move. WHY MUST I DO THIS TERRIBLE THING?

The more I think about doing laundry, the less I can get out of bed. It’s like my legs have completely stopped working. This bed has never been more comfortable or inviting.

Acceptance

I can do this. I am a strong, powerful person. I own detergent. Here we go, off the bed. Okay, you got this.

Oh, that wasn’t so bad. Wow, these towels are warms. Mmmm warm towels. Gosh, with all these clean clothes I’ll never have to do laundry again!