Its currently around, folded, jostled and all to gether clean.
The feeling coming from knowing you have something presentable to wear is just as pleasent as the summer's sun.
Over and around itself, its like creating a hug with every fold.
The occational fabric folds a little harder,
But they all fold the same, identical lines, just larger or smaller.
If only life were as defined as folding laundry.
Where'd my ironing board go?
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