Unwashed

Thou lay there, in silence,
seen, felt, but not heard,
thought worth not twopence,
fluttering away like a bird.

I choose to do nothing about thee,
reaching heights of procrastination,
choosing to overlook the work I see,
looking at your dastardly condition.

I need to wash my laundry!!!!! And stop writing poems about it!!!!
Arrrrrrggghhh!!!!