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Dan was acutely aware of the pile of black and grey t-shirts, socks, and jeans amassing together at the corner of his room. How he was able to live with this was beyond him; messy environments drove him crazy, yet that was exactly what his room was. There was one particular shirt he had been looking for for weeks, and it was crucial he found it today because he and Phil were going to be on television the very next day. He groaned in frustration and just began rifling through everything, the giant pile of clothes, his drawers, closets, and even his sock drawer although he knew the only things in there were socks—not misplaced shirts. The closet doors were slammed shut so hard one of the mirrors fell off, but thankfully, it didn’t break. Hurried footsteps signaled the arrival of Phil who had heard the mirror falling from all the way downstairs.
“What happened?” he asked, panicked.
“Nothing, just one of these mirrors fell off.” Dan answered tonelessly, “Have you seen my moth shirt?”
“No, why?”
“I was going to wear it tomorrow, but I guess now I can’t because I must’ve lost it in this mess. Can you help me find it?”
“Yes, but first we’re doing laundry.”
“But—”
“No buts, we are taking all of these clothes off the floor and putting them in the washing machine. Then, we’ll fold them and you’ll put everything back in the drawer or closet. I’m sure we’ll find the shirt in the process,” Phil reassured.
“Okay fine. Help me get these clothes down to the laundry room. There’s so many this should be a 10 man job, but there’s only the two of us.”
Nearly ten minutes were spent just getting all of Dan’s clothes downstairs. Part of this was due to the fact that some of Dan’s random possessions had made their way into the pile of clothing, so they had to make sure they didn’t accidentally throw an instruction manual for the toaster oven or a Game of Thrones figurine unto the wash.
Dan was throwing the mix of monochrome into the machine and realizing it would probably take two loads to get through everything, “How much detergent was it again?”
“Half of the little measuring cup thing.” Phil reached up to grab the detergent from the shelf above the washing machine but didn’t anticipate it being so slippery, and it went crashing down to the floor. The cap popped off, spilling viscous blue liquid onto the linoleum.
Dan turned around when he heard the crash right behind him and was greeted by a sheepish Phil standing by a puddle of Gatorade-blue detergent, “Philll.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’ll go get paper towels from the kitchen!”
When Phil returned, he was half running to the laundry room. This was a mistake on his part because he completely forgot the reason he had to go to the kitchen the first place and slipped on the spill, landing with a dull thud.
“Oh my god, Phil, are you okay?” a concerned Dan rushed to his side.
“Yeah, I’m fine, but I’ll probably have a bruise on this elbow in a couple days.” Just then, in the corner of his eye, he spotted an off-white and grey shirt.
Dan absentmindedly extended his hand to help Phil up when a “Hey Dan, tell me, what’s this?” caught his attention. Phil was pointing at something on the floor between the washing machine and dryer.
“Wait is that—”
“Yup,” Phil picked up the moth shirt and handed it to Dan, “I guess clumsiness has it’s benefits, you get a whole new perspective.”
“Thank you so much, Phil,” Dan gushed, pulling Phil up and kissing him on the cheek, “What would I do without you?”
“Probably just eventually end up losing all your frequently worn clothes and be forced to wear your colored shirts.”
Dan gasped in mock horror, “Not color, anything but color!”
“Well then, come on, let’s get these washed or else you really will have to wear bright blue tomorrow.”