Wait, I've never thought of that before, but talking is like breathing out but altering the tone and shape of the breath to form words, which is like what a pianist does to a piano, so you know what, we're all musicians now, and as a world class musician I don't talk anymore, I deliver musical breath. I recommend you all do the same.
Let's examine laundry further. You take all your nasty, dirty, sweaty, urine splotched, and filth covered clothes, stick em in a receptacle that's previously had all sorts of disgusting horrors thrown in there, clothes with spit and blood and skid marks and spilled food, sometimes food that wasn't even delicious, and this receptacle then flushes some water on it, like a toilet, spins it around like one of those puke enticing rides at amusement parks, and then sticks your clothes to its walls, for you to peel off, dry somehow, and put back on your disgusting liquid oozing skin.
Now that I have broken this activity down to its fundamental truth it's clear to me that yes, doing laundry is definitely a metaphor for life, specifically the element of life where separation anxiety leads to splendid sensationalism.
Let's examine that further. Say for example you miss your favorite pair of underwear while they are in the washing machine, leading to a severe case of separation anxiety. Now splendid sensationalism is but a guarantee.
I mean you're anxious. Possibly nude. Probably keen on some form of public display of opportunity rich hullabaloo. And there you go.
It could also be a metaphor for life in that bad things can come good again, as long as you give it some time, and a little water and a splash of washing powder, which would be a lovely thing to be reminded of in times you're feeling low, but if that's it then how come I'm not wearing underwear?
Please join us again tomorrow during the best day of my life on this Ok, Intriguing: Hell Yeah: Fleeting Forever, and if you get the time feel free to musically breath this to all your friends.
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