separate the whites from the colours

It's days like these where I can't believe the underuse, in my teens, of our washer and dryer. What I would do to have a laundry system stationed across the hall from me now.
What I would do for handy soap, right beside. For dryer sheets readily available.

But I holed up and messed up. I waded through the piles of clothes and dishes and magazines and locked my door in the night even though my mother told me not to (what if there's a fire and we need to rescue you?).

I postered all my walls with dreamboats. I postered the ceilings with larger-than-life cute-boy smiles. Once I woke to find that my favourite poster had fallen onto my face and it was almost as if he and I were sleeping together!
It must have meant something...

Days like these I am tugging sacks of sheets and towels and too many clothes up and down my block to the laundrymat and still thinking of dreamboats, still thinking if I wake up beside him it must mean something. Still messing things up and holing up to sulk.
But I am also getting to be the person that teenaged me dreamt of.
Getting closer and closer still.
Miles to go, etc