Worst. Nightmare. Ever.

Hi Nate:
Worst. Nightmare. Ever.
And it had been a fairly normal and uneventful day. I went to work. I came home. We ate dinner. Your Dad prepared some delicious spicy tacos, and encouraged me to have an extra helping. I cleaned the dishes. Then, I did laundry. There was a lot of laundry. In fact, way more than I expected given that you and your brother are away for the summer. That put me in a foul mood. And I swear your Dad put some clean laundry in there just so I would have extra laundry to do.

So, I finally finished folding my fourth load, and decided that the rest could wait until the morning. I went upstairs, and crawled into bed. I was completely exhausted. Your Dad started talking to me about how a few summers back our socks threatened to take over the world, but I could barely keep my eyes open. He then started singing off key for some odd reason — poor Dad, he just can’t hold a tune. I didn’t even have the strength to tell him to knock it off. I just rolled over and closed my eyes.

And then it started.
I was back in the laundry room, and I was folding laundry. I would fold a piece of laundry and put in the basket. But when I went to pick up the next piece of laundry, I would notice that piece I had just folded was back in the dirty pile of laundry. I would re-fold that first piece of laundry, but it would just keep disappearing, and the reappearing in the dirty laundry.
Frustrated, I stopped trying to fold the laundry and shouted, “Why are you doing this to me!!”
And then the laundry started multiplying all by itself. Shirts begat pants, which begat underwear, which begat socks.
Oh no, not the socks!!
The socks, just like they had a few summers back, began to use static friction to take the form of a . . . lovely looking woman who resembled Sutton Foster, the famous Broadway star. Then more and more sock-sculpted Sutton Fosters appeared. And they started to sing.
“I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair.” They began. Which, given that they looked just like Sutton Foster, should have been great. Except that they didn’t sound like Sutton Foster. Not at all. Instead, they sounded like Dad. That’s right. A chorus of socks stuck together to look like Sutton Foster, but sounding like Dad. In the meantime, the rest of the laundry is continuing to multiply, and it is closing in on me. It’s up to my knees, and now my waist . . .
“I’m going to wash that man . . .”
Up to me chest, my neck .. .
“I’m going to wash that man . . . ”
And finally they covered my face.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” I screamed. I had woken up from that horrible dream.
Was it enough to scare Theodore. Find out tomorrow.
Love and Kisses,