Todd came home two hours later, and he was covered in dust, grime, and sweat. I had finished my laundry by then, and started his while he took a shower upstairs. I made us each a fried bologna sandwich with some potato chips, and we sat in the kitchen to eat. I had a coke and he had his usual root beer.
“She’s got so much junk,” he said. “I thought I’d never get out of there. Every time I thought I was done, she’d find something else for me to do.”
“She is a packrat,” I agreed, finishing up my lunch. I took our plates to the sink and did up the few dishes.
“After her husband died, I thought she would’ve gotten rid of all his stuff. But instead, she’s accumulated a lot more.” Todd grabbed our soda cans and took them through the kitchen door to the recycle bin at the side of our house.
He wiped down the table then headed up to his room. “I’m going to take a short nap. I’m worn out.”
“Okay,” I said and went back to the living room to continue my reading. I passed by our pitiful little Christmas tree with its six presents underneath its sparse branches. Our parents had bought it years ago, and it had seen better days. I read for a while, then put Todd’s clothes in the dryer. I went upstairs to my room and opened my laptop. I checked my emails, wrote a few replies, then shut it down. I laid back on my bed and must’ve fallen asleep.
When I woke up, the sun was just setting. I went to Todd’s room and found him folding his clothes.
“Thanks for doing my laundry, Man,” he said, folding a pair of jeans over a hanger and putting it in his closet.
“No prob,” I said. “What did you want to do for dinner?”