My mother keeps poetry in the laundry room.

“My mother keeps poetry in the laundry room.”

Someday I imagine my boys explaining this quirk to their friends. If it’s anything like the way I explain my mother, there will probably be a shrug and an indulgent eye roll to go along with it. Good natured, of course. They may not get it, but I hope they remember it.

Not for the poetry itself, but for the id…

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