An Ode To My Dryer Penned One Warm Summer's Night

I have softener sheets gripped in one hand
As in front of the dyer I stand
And on closer inspection
I see the collection
Of options I don’t understand

The machine is just trying to confuse me
There are settings and knobs that bemuse me
There’s “more” and “less” dry
And I cannot think why
The designer would be so dammed choosy

I think “isn’t ‘less dry’ just wet”?
And the thought of “more dry” I don’t get
But in my head there’s a voice
That says “why give a choice
If there isn’t a difference, and yet……..

If my clothes are too dry they’ll be rough
But then they might not come out dry enough
If I choose the wrong setting
Who knows what I’ll be getting?
When did doing the wash get so tough???”

Now, never before did I dread
Doing laundry, but now in my head
I’m so bloody confused
By the settings to choose
That I hang it dry outside instead