LAUNDRY DAY.

Someone once told me that, more often than not, the easy way is hard enough.  He, on a separate occasion, accused me of biting his fern.

another one said to me, "I see you fretting over there, Sarah.  Be brave." Later, she would put a large red circle in the corner of the painting I was fretting over to prove a point I've now forgotten.

I'm waiting for the dryer to buzz so that I can go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow morning and have another dayfull.  Right now, though, the shaking of it and the train on its tracks are harmonizing in a low, unobtrusive tone.  And then the train whistles, and it always sounds so urgent and unnoticed, except by the farther away train in reply; the way it enters my windows seems like whale song.

How do they sound where you are sitting?