It kind of made me gag a little. OK. A lot.
Maybe I'm just not that thankful of a person, but for me, laundry does not equal love. It means I'm surrounded by dirty little people who don't even want to touch their own socks long enough to put them in the hamper. Granted, the hamper is a whole 3 feet away from their bedrooms. That is a completely unreasonable distance. I get it. Really, I do. Of course, it's much more fun to peel our socks off and launch them into the air, letting them fall where they will. At least the boys will get a few days out of a pair of those socks. If they aren't black they'll wear them for a several days, and I'm actually OK with that. I don't like to fold socks anyway. But my daughter...She doesn't wear things two days in a row. She doesn't wear things two hours in a row. It's simply unacceptable. There are too many choices. Breakfast is a casual affair, so anything goes. By lunchtime it's usually getting pretty hot outside, so a quick change of attire is appropriate. Afternoon snacks can warrant a wardrobe change, as can dinner. Which is fine. But all those clean clothes actually do end up making it into the hamper, and since I can't tell which is what, I end up washing them all over again. And then I wash them again. And again. Because I put them in the washer, then I forget about them.The mildew stench eventually draws me back to the laundry room, and I have to wash them again. On a good day, I can get 3-4 loads of laundry washed a day. Even if technically, it's the same load. I count that as a productive day.
But I shouldn't complain. I do get paid. The treasures I find in the dryer could pay for a trip to some exotic local.
|That blue gem alone should, at the very least, buy me a trip to the bathroom without any kind of interruption for 10 minutes.|
But today? I struck gold! $7.00!
Then I realized that it was mine to begin with.