:Chores:

Just another little something I wrote as an exercise for a self-taught writing class last year...

What can match that feeling of dread when faced with a brontosaurial pile of cast-off clothing?
An everestine stack of lasagnian dishes?
An endless stretch of crumb-bespeckled carpet?
The draining depths of a stagnant bathroom?
Or the blurred reflection of a finger-printed mirror?

It's the sigh of relief and the knowledge that you have slayed the brontosaur,
conquered everest,
combined the carpet,
plumbed the depths,
and come to see yourself clearly again through the clutter.
It's the breath that knows "I'm done"...

...it's the gnawing thought that next week...or tomorrow...it all begins again.

--Sam