Dirty Laundry Mga Nobela at Kwento

Aria It’s really important to me to do the best job possible cleaning Sebastian’s room, so I am multitasking as much as possible. I have a load of laundry in--mostly towels, though I also need to wash his sheets--I have sprayed the bathtub so that the cleaner can start to loosen some of the grime that has adhered itself to the tile over the last few weeks when it’s been pretty clear that Gloria hasn’t actually been cleaning anything, and I’m busy dusting all of the furniture so that I can vacuum. I know I have to make time to iron all of his shirts, too. I knew there was something wrong the moment I first saw him this morning because his shirt was so wrinkly. He’s usually so put together.

This time, she sat. The leather was expensive. Everything in this room probably costs more than her monthly salary. Adrian took his seat across from her and slid a thick folder across the desk. “What’s that?” she asked. “Your lifeline.” She opened it cautiously. Legal language greeted her. Dense. Precise. Intimidating. “NDA?” she asked. “Yes.” “Plural?” “Yes.” She flipped pages, eyes widening. “Non-disclosure, non-disparagement, media conduct—are you serious?”

His eyes wandered around the room, then suddenly he stopped in front of the mirror, as if trying to calm himself. Just a few moments ago, Sonia had been close to him… thinking about it made his expression turn even colder. He looked at his hands—those very hands that had touched her. The next moment, he quickly walked into the washroom. He took off his clothes and threw them into the dustbin. Then he stood under the shower. The cold water was falling heavily over his body, and he kept scrubbing himself again and again, as if trying to wash away something he never wanted to feel on him.

"How many times have I told you to keep it clean, but you're making a mountain out of a molehill with your dirty clothes!" "Lynda enough, you're pulling too hard!" screamed Allexin in pain from Lynda's hand, Allexin's ears were red when Lynda let go of her hand. "After breakfast I want you to clean your dirty clothes, you're a big boy Allexin, so I hope you can be more diligent, what if your clothes grow mold? Do you want me to pick the mushrooms and then make you a dish from the mushrooms growing on your clothes?" said Lynda.

Sobbing back my tears, I rise to open the door. Lorenzo stands there, dripping wet hair, bare foot, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that doesn’t match, he looks horrible and lost. “Lilly-Ann” He whispers breathlessly as his eyes gaze into mine and noticing the redness of all the crying. “Fuck.” He grabs me around my waist and pulls me to his chest. I want to weep against him but I bite it back and shove him hard, forcing him to let go of me. “Don’t you dare.” I narrow my eyes at him, shaking my head. “No, you need to leave.”

Not big, not brave, not strategically good enough for this mission. Meanwhile, I rub five people's clothes on the rocks by the river while only my thoughts can be free. The moment of doing the laundry is as tiring as it is liberating. I'm far from the chatter of the mall, the gossip and my friends deluded by the latest news. Separated by a few meters from each other, we stay here, sitting on our own legs or crouching, scrubbing, scrubbing… The few clothes that still fit us, that are not yet broken enough to be discarded or serve another function.

Determined to maintain a sense of normalcy, I give a firm nod and proceed to tidy up their children's rooms, meticulously collecting all the soiled clothes and taking them to the laundry room for washing and drying. I feel a wave of disgust as I approach Juan and Denise's room, knowing that their room is in complete disarray, with condoms scattered on the floor and discarded in the trash. The sight of their intimate items strewn about only intensifies the unsettling feeling that has settled in the pit of my stomach.

She hung the towel on the rack near the sink so that it would dry. “Don’t hang that there, it’s dirty from the floor,” Karen said. “Put it in the laundry room with the other dirty towels.” “Okay,” Lauren said. She started for the laundry room, which was just off the kitchen. “What happened to your shorts?” Karen said. “They’re covered in mud.” “I know,” Lauren said, rolling her eyes when she was sure Karen couldn’t see her. “My bike got muddy, too, which is why I was cleaning it.”

Once there was nothing but the wood, I picked up the laundry and headed down stairs. The laundry closet was next to the door that headed down into our gym. It was an laundromat sized washer and dryer, since we did sometimes have table clothes, napkins, and the drapes from the bar but it helped being able to wash huge loads of normal laundry as well. Shoving the towels and bedding into the washer, I started to strip down as well. My shirt, covered in red. My pants, covered in red. They all needed to go. Once shoved in, I turned on the washer after filling it with soap. Watching the water fill for a minute, I stared at it. My mind still completely blank. Only feeling the slight chill down here