Fold one shirt, one towel, and pair up two of his black socks, though they aren’t two black socks that match.
Pause mid-folding to stare, slack-jawed, at the television for ten minutes, since Hulu auto-played an episode of Modern Family that I’d already seen twice.
Lose the thread of my actual task since Gloria is wearing a gorgeous deep berry lip color and I have to stop and google who does Sofia Vergara’s makeup.
Spend fifteen minutes swiping through slideshows of Sofia Vergara and Joe Mangianello’s relationship, lamenting the fact that I was not born more beautiful and Columbian.
Back on task since I hear Orie heading toward the bedroom. Add two towels and a pair of jeans to the ‘folded’ pile.
Once Orie has gone again, I consider painting my nails. I don’t do it, though, since I am backon task. Commend myself for being a great wife and life partner.
Fold two of Lucy’s shirts and a pair of her leggings that have a rip in the knee. Consider patching the rip, but remember I’m not handy and Target sells new leggings for like, $3 a pair with Cartwheel.
Redownload the Facebook app that I deleted two days prior, back when I was determined to ‘make the most of every day’ and ‘be more productive.’ I have since re-accepted the reality that the most I can expect out of most days is mediocrity and I am only productive when slightly inebriated, angry, or motivated by money.
Scroll down Facebook feed. Try and fail not to get deeply offended by a heinously sexist meme posted by a kid I went to high school with. He used to play a lot of Halo. Instead of arguing, I unfriend him. Good job, Grace. Keep your echo chamber nice and cozy.
Orie loops back by to tell me something about Google Fiber that I don’t understand. I dutifully nod and make my eyes all wide and listen-y as I fold some washcloths.
Orie leaves, and I automatically pick up my phone. Google auto-fills my next search from ‘h’ to ‘Harry Styles’ and I feel a deep wave of shame as I backspace and instead finish typing ‘how does fiber internet work?’
No explanations exist that are simple enough for me to understand. Try again with ‘how does internet work?’
This is boring. Allow Google take me where it knows I really belong.
Spend five minutes scrolling through photos of Harry Styles.
Lucy runs in, announces that she has farted. I exasperatedly tell her that I am folding laundry, and to give me a minute.
Lucy helpfully points out that I’m just ‘playing on my phone.’ Tell Lucy I don’t need that kind of judgment and she is no longer welcome in my life bedroom.
Glance up to see Ariel Winter sassing Claire on TV. Think back nostalgically to the days before Ariel Winter took her fashion inspiration from Atlanta strippers.
Accidentally fold the rest of the basket while considering what life must be like as a stripper in Atlanta, and realize with a jolt that I have no more laundry to fold.
Orie comes back in, says brightly, ‘hey, you’re done! Come watch this video I found.’
Cast around frantically for more clean clothes to fold. There are none. Ariel Winter has thwarted me again. I have to watch the video.