Confession

There's no name for what this is

I’ve been washing my clothes and hanging them to dry on a flimsy metal rack all the while absolutely convincing myself that it made me, at least, 10-15% more like an old school domestic housewife from the mountains. Like I was some sort of lady who washed my clothes in a random river stream and carried buckets of water around the village. Like I could maybe sew something together, or even feed a child with my breast. And for some reason I’m just always wearing an apron, no matter where I am.

domestic

I actually said things like, “Man, I actually like hanging these clothes up, so much fun” and “This doesn’t even bother me at all, doing all of this extra manual labor and everything” and “Isn’t it just fascinating how long it takes those jeans to dry, it’s not even as if I would actually enjoy wearing them sooner than 2 days from now.”

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Published by

Kofoworola Awojobi

Kofoworola Awojobi was born and raised in Lagos, Nigeria, where he currently lives. A medical doctor, he had always tended towards getting more atuned to the hidden truths that defines our very existence. He follows world politics avidly in a manner acompanied by self-reflection.

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