I was busy typing two weeks ago when I noticed some laundry that was out of place, since that day I promised that I wouldn't distract myself from my work, I didn't pay much attention to it. Soon the dirty clothes keep moving by themselves, they kept piling on top of my desk until it was hard to ignore, the pile took over my working area, and I had to continue my work on the kitchen table.
This story might sound exaggerated, but the pile doubled in size by the next week. My family feared him for a while because it kept growing and growing with the days until he acquired a voice of his own. Sometimes when I'm by my self at home, I swear I can hear him calling my name, I can hear him screaming at the top of his lungs (if he has any) telling me to go down and confront him, but I refuse to. I just can't stop typing. I have to keep focusing all my energy on this project until publication day.
In the hopes of having him gone, the most daring of my family members already try to tackle him with no success, he is massive and fierce, and more importantly, he refuses to leave his new dwelling grounds. It is hard to admit it, but my family already got used to him, they even gave him a name of his own, he is now called The Dirty Laundry Pile, but I refuse even to acknowledge his presence. To me, he's just the monster that threatens my creativity, the beast that I'll keep ignoring just for pure fear that he will keep growing and take over my whole my house.