Billy was alone and doing the wash. "Don't forget to put the washing machine on Gentle Cycle", a thought statement automatically appearing every time he did the wash for the last 14 years. His wife usually added after that, "you should be lucky because most husbands don't have a wife who did their laundry including folding your underwear". It was beyond micro-management. As if he hadn't done laundry for forty years or lived out of the laundry basket. It was frustrating.
Billy was thinking there must be a way not to get so disturbed by the nitpicking, as domesticity was her God given domain and men needed to be told every fucking time they ventured to wash a dish, vacuum the rug, close the refrigerator, make a bed or boil some water. That was her craziness. Billy was wondering if all wives had to similarly instruct their husbands. However, if he was hanging a picture or changing a tire she would be mute on the subject. Which proved that it was her problem. He preferred otherwise but it wasn't going to happen, so why get upset?
Would the world end if Billy washed the clothes on Brights and dried on High heat by accident? Maybe that t-shirt would fit snugly next time, but we'd still have clean clothes to wear.
Billy was displeased and disappointed. He'd just had to find other things to enjoy. The wash was insignificant.
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