Lawson writes that she and her husband have different views on folded piles of laundry. "I can ignore the piles of clothes on the guest room bed because I know they're all straight from the dryer and just waiting to be folded," she writes. "Victor, on the other hand, will glare at the growing pile and huff loudly over and over.... Victor sees a dangerous volcano erupting with clothes that I must be intentionally refusing to hang up because I'm lazy and am purposely trying to make him have a nervous breakdown. I see it as a personal achievement.... a physical manifestation of all the laundry I've done over the last few months. It's like a strange trophy made of clothes that I've forgotten I even owned. Victor says it's like a crazy person lives in our house and is sculpting Mount Vesuvius out of the sweaters that need to be in storage. This is when I remind him exactly why doors were invented, and I close the guest bedroom door. 'See?' I say. 'Problem solved.'"
