Laundry Bunker

Slipping back inside through the patio crack beat loitering on the chilly pavement all evening. Following the scent of dryer sheets led me straight to the bedroom, where a plastic laundry basket was parked on the rug, piled high with fresh towels. Scrambling up the slotted sides took all of three seconds. I dropped backward into the dead center of a fleece blanket, carving out an absurdly plush crater. A rogue pair of balled-up striped socks tumbled over the plastic rim and hit the floorboards with a muffled thump. If anyone expects these towels folded tonight, they'll have to come evict me first.