HOME AT LAST. I dumped my duffel bag full of dirty clothes on the floor, slammed the door and went straight through to the kitchen, stopping in front of the washing machine, in its glorious household appliance standard white colour scheme.
I pulled the machine drawer out, free-pouring fabric softener in slot three. Slot two received the most generous two scoops of powder I’d ever fed it.
I paused briefly, a moment of indecision striking when most expected. We would all feel it in this situation – the universal trepidation before a big decision, telling of a lie, or worse…but it wasn’t like I’d killed anyone.
It seemed a drastic decision, but sometimes a corner is unforgiving, offering no escape.
I did it. I put it in.
Cycle 3. Fast Colours. 100 degrees.
I felt different as I stood back up listening to the water flood into the washing machine, very different.
Soon, my conscience would be clean, I mean…clear.