EFFIE BATEMAN | BRISBANE | CONTACT
Grumbling to herself as she picks bits of lint and tissue off some soggy wet uniforms, mum of two Sarah Wells pauses briefly to evaluate the absolute carnage before her.
To the optimist, the speckle of white flecks aligning every piece of fabric could be considered almost… beautiful. But for Sarah, it’s just another nail in the coffin for the endless barrage of work, picking up shit that, along with cooking dinner, dropping people off, and stepping on lego, seems to be all she does anymore.
All Sarah asks is that you empty your pockets out before you put them in the wash.
And wipe your pee droplets off the toilet seat.
For fucks sake.
Navigating her way through assorted pants pockets like a wrecking crew trying to salvage a black box, Sarah hunts for the one item she knows is the cause of such wreckage.
As she reaches into a suspiciously tissue ridden pair of culottes that appear to have taken the brunt of the blast, Sarah finds exactly what she was looking for – a rock hard lump of fossilized tissue.
Prizing it open, which is a strange thing to do considering what tissues are used for, Sarah is surprised to unearth another layer to her prize – a gleaming, chrysalis goo that appears to be a melted down butter menthol.
Considering that the two items likely mean one of her children has caught a case of the greenies, Sarah agrees to herself that there’ll be no repercussions.
This time, anyway.
More to come.
