Wrinkled Clothes Lasagna with Starchy Sauce

Dear CF,

When I headed bedward last night I encountered a heap of clothes so heavy that my comforter, that onetime paragon of downy warmth, had been mashed into a thin and depressing sheet.  Something had to be done. I layered the clothes tenderly on the floor, in the way one might make a lasagna: the creased pants in a long and vaguely pants-like shape, then a layer of crumpled ricotta shirts and scarves, then another strip of creased trousers.

I went to sleep listening to the latest episode of Family Guy.

I woke up to the sounds of upstairs sex and outdoor sawing (which at first seemed part of the upstairs sex and I pitied the girl, whom the arhythmic stops and speedy restarts could not but frustrate), with Sam Cooke’s “Bring it on Home to Me” playing on repeat in my head.

All my work clothes are in a pile.

Did you resolve your wardrobe dilemma?

Fondly,

Millicent

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