Walking through the doorway, a groan crosses her lips and she closes her eyes. The table stacked high with piles of assorted clothing, papers, and empty cans. The island and sink an array of glasses, dishes, plates and silverware waiting to be washed. Wrappers, packages, and empty boxes clutter the counters. Shoes scattered across the floor, hunks of mud and grass littering the surface. Everyday it she cleans it only to have it reappear hours later.
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