Unable to go farther she stopped at the stream, dipping her hands into the cool rushing water. There were probably parasites in the water, though. She let the water go, too late to reclaim innocence, too late to be pure again, too late to wash anything clean anymore.
why is it that whenever I try to get the motivation to do dishes I always find something else to do?! It’s productive procrastination since i’m doing “productive” things but still!
“Wash, get up here!” the slightly nervous voice of Captain Mal Reynolds blared over the speaker in Serenity. Wash glanced up from the plate in front of him with a pout. “But…dinner!”
i just washed my car today cause i got done building the turbo kit finally. and seriously, i was just thinking about how i need to wash my work clothes before work tomorrow right before i came across this page.
I washed my hands of the blood that had caked them for the past hour. Trust me, when you’ve got the blood of something that isn’t human on you, you really want to get it off as fast as possible.
i’m so dirty and nerdy and flirty why don’t you come over here you provocative little vixen messin with my heart don’t you start stop to stare and my breasts and caress my behind the curtain ;)
Rain washes the world. It comes down in sheets of droplets of water and just rinses off everything. Cleanses the leaves and the plants and runs like rivers down gutters, rushing away the dead leaves and bugs and whatever else is stuck in them.
There was so much blood. I didn’t think I would ever be able to wash it all off of me. I showered and I scrubbed until my skin was raw. And then I turned my attention to the stains in that were all over the house.
I used to wash potatoes and green beans and sunripened raspberries with nana, who was the maternal grandmother. Washing raspberries is more difficult than my little girl head could imagine, but it was worth it for the cream and sugar sweet treat at the end.
I used to hate washing dishes. It is still my least favorite chore. Fuck I hated washing dishes. But I like showers. I hate washing clothes too. I mean I wash them, but I don’t like gathering clothes for them.
I could spend my entire life washing things. Clothing, floors, myself. I think Americans are too hung up on washing. If we all gave up washing, would anyone notice?
she slowly and cariingly washed her brothers dirty face, the mud that was caked on peel away like a second skin. Demitri giggled as Amelia commented on his dirt caked clothes as well.
there is a dry wash behind me. i call it a barranca. it is the conduit for all of the wildlife coming down from the paiutes. the evenings are awash in the wail of the coyotes. we have bobcats, bears, and mountain lions visit the neighborhood.
Vexen sat in the large tub, soap covering every inch of his body. He was busily scrubbing all available surface of his being, cursing the day Marluxia came into existence. If Marluxia ever ‘gave him the surprise sex he never knew he wanted’ ever again, Vexen would surely murder the other Organization member in the most brutal way imaginable.
Vexen was so lost in his musings of ways to horribly maim the other nobody, that he did not notice the pink haired nuisance sneaking up until said nuisance had bent down and whispered huskily in his ear.
“Surprise.”
I don’t want to wash my clothes anytime soon. just hope it never comes me to never washing them again. Smelling funny is a thing of the past. Wearing new clothes lasts forever. Or something. At the car yeah. Oh man
The dog shook water all over the children in front of it, drenching them. That would serve them for giving him a bath! He had been rolling for hours in that dead squirrel and now they had ruined all his work. He would have to do the whole thing over again tomorrow – but somehow the smell was never quite the same.
She ran toward the washing machine. There was muffled screaming coming from it.
“Ned!” she yelled.
She desperately pushed the buttons, turning it off.
It opened and she pulled her dripping and half-drowned two-year-old out of the washer. He was alive though.
“Never do that again,” she told him.
He coughed in agreement.
is it brain washing or telepathy this thing that is between us?you say you are talking to me,but how do i know it is me you are talking to?and how do you know it is to you that i am talking?i am no good at clues.if it is telepathy tell me you will meet me tonight on the dam that is no longer a dam.we’ll make peace there if we can.if we can’t/let’s speak in plain english for once/you have me at a disadvantage
the trickle of dime sized specks of light washing over the very depths of my soul, enabled my mind to clearly open up and drown itself in the crystal cool caressing fragrance of waters so torrid, cascading so actively.
The waves wash over me. A sea breeze whips through my hair and suddenly I remember, it doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done. You can always wash away your sins and start anew. You don’t have to be religious; you just have to know when it is time to turn a new leaf.
I woke up and it was gone, like someone had stripped away everything you ever did to hurt me. I went to the rock, and I sat where we sat, and I felt nothing. I have been washed clean of you.
washing, drying, dirty hands and crumbling skin. the hot water scalds and i let the soap bubble and burn it’s way into the cracks. i will be clean, i will be pure, i will be perfect.
He can wash away the blood from his skin and clothes, but that doesn’t erase the memories. The swirls of muted crimson slide around the sink, but the images stay firmly planted in his mind; caught in his throat like a barrier. “Here…let me help you,” a voice offers softly, as if the speaker was afraid he would break. He can wash away the blood, and maybe…some one else can wash away his past in the way he would never be able to.
I wash down the taste of morning with a cold beer and head to shower. This is the routine. Wake up, beer, shower, dress, beer, and head out to work. Its a nice routine, when you have someone to come home to.
The suds stung her hands, and she realized she must have left some cuts uncovered. “Crap,” she grumbled, pulling out the wash and flinging it over the chair. “I have to start over.”
“It didn’t stain them,” he said with surprise.
wash is the absolute most necessary thing in my life. wash dishes, wash floors, wash hands, wash hands, wash hands, wash hands. if i dont wash my hands there will be finger prints on the tshirts and if there are finger prints on the tshirts they’re shit!
Put me through the ringer, squeeze the moisture from my hide. Find another singer—someone else to take the bride. I’m not sipping sopping liquid from this kitchen floor no more.
I sighed in relief as I finally hung up the last of the sheets. Rubbing my sore back, I returned to the wash room to tidy up…only to find a whole new wave of dirty clothes and linens in the basket.
Brilliant.
We wash everything. We wash ourselves, our rooms, our plates, and our clothes. But more importantly, we wash away the past,we wash away the things we want to forget, we wash away regrets, we wash away fueds, we wash away the things that in the light of day we’d rather not see. Through washing things away, we forgive ourselves and others.
Everything I thought I knew about myself has been washed away. Now I’m drowning in confusion – I am so many things, but not absolutely any things, it seems. What a strange identity is mine, a mind of many, some, both, and none.
Unable to go farther she stopped at the stream, dipping her hands into the cool rushing water. There were probably parasites in the water, though. She let the water go, too late to reclaim innocence, too late to be pure again, too late to wash anything clean anymore.
why is it that whenever I try to get the motivation to do dishes I always find something else to do?! It’s productive procrastination since i’m doing “productive” things but still!
“Wash, get up here!” the slightly nervous voice of Captain Mal Reynolds blared over the speaker in Serenity. Wash glanced up from the plate in front of him with a pout. “But…dinner!”
i just washed my car today cause i got done building the turbo kit finally. and seriously, i was just thinking about how i need to wash my work clothes before work tomorrow right before i came across this page.
My hands were so dirty, I could not wait to get home and wash the day off of them.
I washed my hands of the blood that had caked them for the past hour. Trust me, when you’ve got the blood of something that isn’t human on you, you really want to get it off as fast as possible.
i’m so dirty and nerdy and flirty why don’t you come over here you provocative little vixen messin with my heart don’t you start stop to stare and my breasts and caress my behind the curtain ;)
wash away your sins
in the cool clear water
wash away your sights
in the calm comforting rain
wash away your soul
in the cold corrosive screams.
Rain washes the world. It comes down in sheets of droplets of water and just rinses off everything. Cleanses the leaves and the plants and runs like rivers down gutters, rushing away the dead leaves and bugs and whatever else is stuck in them.
There was so much blood. I didn’t think I would ever be able to wash it all off of me. I showered and I scrubbed until my skin was raw. And then I turned my attention to the stains in that were all over the house.
its time to wash away the tears, and the pain.
its time to wash away the grief from your heart
its time to wash away all the past
I used to wash potatoes and green beans and sunripened raspberries with nana, who was the maternal grandmother. Washing raspberries is more difficult than my little girl head could imagine, but it was worth it for the cream and sugar sweet treat at the end.
I used to hate washing dishes. It is still my least favorite chore. Fuck I hated washing dishes. But I like showers. I hate washing clothes too. I mean I wash them, but I don’t like gathering clothes for them.
Wash away the day. Wash away your past regrets and mistakes. All in the same water you used the day before. Better just, to not bother at all.
a car wash,
beautiful, chaotic, crazy, odd, relaxing
coloured wax swirling and mixing
music sounds better in the car wash
I could spend my entire life washing things. Clothing, floors, myself. I think Americans are too hung up on washing. If we all gave up washing, would anyone notice?
like the rain washing the chalk on the pavement away.
all that will disappear but the fun times that we had putting it there will last forever.
she slowly and cariingly washed her brothers dirty face, the mud that was caked on peel away like a second skin. Demitri giggled as Amelia commented on his dirt caked clothes as well.
there is a dry wash behind me. i call it a barranca. it is the conduit for all of the wildlife coming down from the paiutes. the evenings are awash in the wail of the coyotes. we have bobcats, bears, and mountain lions visit the neighborhood.
Vexen sat in the large tub, soap covering every inch of his body. He was busily scrubbing all available surface of his being, cursing the day Marluxia came into existence. If Marluxia ever ‘gave him the surprise sex he never knew he wanted’ ever again, Vexen would surely murder the other Organization member in the most brutal way imaginable.
Vexen was so lost in his musings of ways to horribly maim the other nobody, that he did not notice the pink haired nuisance sneaking up until said nuisance had bent down and whispered huskily in his ear.
“Surprise.”
I don’t want to wash my clothes anytime soon. just hope it never comes me to never washing them again. Smelling funny is a thing of the past. Wearing new clothes lasts forever. Or something. At the car yeah. Oh man
The dog shook water all over the children in front of it, drenching them. That would serve them for giving him a bath! He had been rolling for hours in that dead squirrel and now they had ruined all his work. He would have to do the whole thing over again tomorrow – but somehow the smell was never quite the same.
She ran toward the washing machine. There was muffled screaming coming from it.
“Ned!” she yelled.
She desperately pushed the buttons, turning it off.
It opened and she pulled her dripping and half-drowned two-year-old out of the washer. He was alive though.
“Never do that again,” she told him.
He coughed in agreement.
Jesus.This is not a dating site.Get a room!Do you want them to take One Word off the web again?
is it brain washing or telepathy this thing that is between us?you say you are talking to me,but how do i know it is me you are talking to?and how do you know it is to you that i am talking?i am no good at clues.if it is telepathy tell me you will meet me tonight on the dam that is no longer a dam.we’ll make peace there if we can.if we can’t/let’s speak in plain english for once/you have me at a disadvantage
the trickle of dime sized specks of light washing over the very depths of my soul, enabled my mind to clearly open up and drown itself in the crystal cool caressing fragrance of waters so torrid, cascading so actively.
The waves wash over me. A sea breeze whips through my hair and suddenly I remember, it doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done. You can always wash away your sins and start anew. You don’t have to be religious; you just have to know when it is time to turn a new leaf.
Every Wenesday, I did the wash. I scrubbed Daddy’s shirts, Momma’s aprons and I een had to wash my own brothers longjohns.
I woke up and it was gone, like someone had stripped away everything you ever did to hurt me. I went to the rock, and I sat where we sat, and I felt nothing. I have been washed clean of you.
washing, drying, dirty hands and crumbling skin. the hot water scalds and i let the soap bubble and burn it’s way into the cracks. i will be clean, i will be pure, i will be perfect.
He tried to wash the look of loss of hope off of his face and after scrubbing himself to the bare bone he decided there was nothing left to do.
He can wash away the blood from his skin and clothes, but that doesn’t erase the memories. The swirls of muted crimson slide around the sink, but the images stay firmly planted in his mind; caught in his throat like a barrier. “Here…let me help you,” a voice offers softly, as if the speaker was afraid he would break. He can wash away the blood, and maybe…some one else can wash away his past in the way he would never be able to.
I wash down the taste of morning with a cold beer and head to shower. This is the routine. Wake up, beer, shower, dress, beer, and head out to work. Its a nice routine, when you have someone to come home to.
The suds stung her hands, and she realized she must have left some cuts uncovered. “Crap,” she grumbled, pulling out the wash and flinging it over the chair. “I have to start over.”
“It didn’t stain them,” he said with surprise.
wash is the absolute most necessary thing in my life. wash dishes, wash floors, wash hands, wash hands, wash hands, wash hands. if i dont wash my hands there will be finger prints on the tshirts and if there are finger prints on the tshirts they’re shit!
Put me through the ringer, squeeze the moisture from my hide. Find another singer—someone else to take the bride. I’m not sipping sopping liquid from this kitchen floor no more.
Bubbles in the bath tub, it’s washing time! Little puppies splashing in the tub. Rub behind the ears. Squeaky clean!
I sighed in relief as I finally hung up the last of the sheets. Rubbing my sore back, I returned to the wash room to tidy up…only to find a whole new wave of dirty clothes and linens in the basket.
Brilliant.
We wash everything. We wash ourselves, our rooms, our plates, and our clothes. But more importantly, we wash away the past,we wash away the things we want to forget, we wash away regrets, we wash away fueds, we wash away the things that in the light of day we’d rather not see. Through washing things away, we forgive ourselves and others.
Everything I thought I knew about myself has been washed away. Now I’m drowning in confusion – I am so many things, but not absolutely any things, it seems. What a strange identity is mine, a mind of many, some, both, and none.