My mind is a washing machine with an extra large load of thoughts. Some of them fade, some blend colors. I don’t use bleach to brighten things up, but there are some days when I realize I should. The water that drains after a cycle of thinking is a soapy brown. I’m left with a pile of tangled wet clothes. My washing machine didn't come with an owners manual, so maybe i’m not using it right.
I keep expecting it to sort and dry my clothes on its own, but that’s what I’m going to use this blog for.
