Black Sunday

It's such a straightforward sort of colour.
I never squint at a black tee shirt, wondering if it goes with my black jeans.
I never have to get up in the morning, thinking "I wonder what colour I'll wear today."
And black goes with anything.
As long as the anything is black.
~Neil Gaiman

With a slight tug, all my clothes went tumbling down like an avalanche.

It’s spring cleaning time for my wardrobe again. I had stared at the heaps of garments for almost an hour, contemplating how to rearrange them, before I launched the attack. However, once the chaos hit the floor, my mind turned to a blank.

I could never understand why the same stacks of clothes never fit into the same allocated place as nicely as before. No matter how many pieces I’ve cleared out, there still seemed to be not enough space to pack all of them back. I stared at the mountain on the floor, looked at the limited space left, my mind went blank again.

I was left with no choice but to free out another space to accommodate the rest of the clothing. The procedures of extracting, unfolding, folding and piling almost lulled me to sleep. But the mountain remained unfaltering.

The nice layout plan I had in mind didn’t work at all. In the end, I had to resort to squeezing all those loose pieces into all the available spaces I could find again.

I took a look at the neat piles on the shelves and grin in satisfaction. The top shelf now holds my white, red and light-coloured tops. The whole of the bottom shelf is occupied by the blacks. Black as in blackboard, black knight, black coffee, black eye, black hole, blackmail… Oh no, blackmail isn't really black. I’ve never known I have such a huge collection of black tops!

As I lowered my eyes and saw the remaining hill on the floor, my face turned grim again. How do I put an end to this grueling curse?

By midnight, the hill had diminished, saved for a few little mounds staying behind. I couldn’t bring myself to confront them anymore.

Stretch.

Yawn.

Zzzz…