Was That Out Loud?
If "Competitive Laundry" was an Olympic sport, I would have brought home the gold medal for the good old US of A this past weekend. Seriously, I should be on a Wheaties box, which I suppose is better than a milk carton. But I digress.
There are 4 people living in this house – FOUR. I swear I did enough laundry for the entire starting lineup of the Pittsburgh Steelers. The clothes were just as dirty, too. Who are these people? I KNOW I don't see everyone in 5 different outfits per day. This is not some Hollywood awards show for cryin' out loud. No one here makes several clothing changes each day, except the Little One before school. And those are not sanctioned by the Management, but it's easier than fighting with her. Tell me how you can wear something for less than a minute, yell "I look stupid in this!" and it is now dirty.
This weekend I was determined to get it all done, come hell or high water bills. I was like a madwoman. I couldn't stop. The more loads I did, the more determined I became. As I got closer to the bottom of the pile, my anger grew. Please tell me why there are bathing suits in the wash? It is the end of November. The pool has been closed since Labor Day. And while you are at it, please explain to me why I found folded clothes – clean ones mind you – in the pile as well. And of course there was my all-time favorite – clothes that no longer fit anyone and haven’t for months. WHY are these in the laundry pile?
Ah well, it doesn't matter. The laundry is all done for the first time in the five years we have lived here. I know, I know. You don't have to remind me that the pile will have regenerated to twice its usual size by Wednesday. But I'm over laundry for the year, so I choose to focus my attention elsewhere. The house is actually sort of clean...at least the downstairs is sort of presentable...not including my office. Ahem. What in the world will I do with all that extra time I have between my end of semester papers, finals and ferrying the kids to all their activities? At some point I need to tackle the second floor, but that's no fun. Did I mention my office?
I put a lot of thought into how I was going to spend my "spare" time in the coming days and weeks. It was then that I uttered the most horrid words in the English language, the words that everyone dreads. The phrase that sends sane adults screaming for the liquor cabinet. Those words that as soon as they escape your mouth you wish you could take back:
"I guess it’s time to get out the Christmas decorations."
Lord help me.
There are 4 people living in this house – FOUR. I swear I did enough laundry for the entire starting lineup of the Pittsburgh Steelers. The clothes were just as dirty, too. Who are these people? I KNOW I don't see everyone in 5 different outfits per day. This is not some Hollywood awards show for cryin' out loud. No one here makes several clothing changes each day, except the Little One before school. And those are not sanctioned by the Management, but it's easier than fighting with her. Tell me how you can wear something for less than a minute, yell "I look stupid in this!" and it is now dirty.
This weekend I was determined to get it all done, come hell or high water bills. I was like a madwoman. I couldn't stop. The more loads I did, the more determined I became. As I got closer to the bottom of the pile, my anger grew. Please tell me why there are bathing suits in the wash? It is the end of November. The pool has been closed since Labor Day. And while you are at it, please explain to me why I found folded clothes – clean ones mind you – in the pile as well. And of course there was my all-time favorite – clothes that no longer fit anyone and haven’t for months. WHY are these in the laundry pile?
Ah well, it doesn't matter. The laundry is all done for the first time in the five years we have lived here. I know, I know. You don't have to remind me that the pile will have regenerated to twice its usual size by Wednesday. But I'm over laundry for the year, so I choose to focus my attention elsewhere. The house is actually sort of clean...at least the downstairs is sort of presentable...not including my office. Ahem. What in the world will I do with all that extra time I have between my end of semester papers, finals and ferrying the kids to all their activities? At some point I need to tackle the second floor, but that's no fun. Did I mention my office?
I put a lot of thought into how I was going to spend my "spare" time in the coming days and weeks. It was then that I uttered the most horrid words in the English language, the words that everyone dreads. The phrase that sends sane adults screaming for the liquor cabinet. Those words that as soon as they escape your mouth you wish you could take back:
"I guess it’s time to get out the Christmas decorations."
Lord help me.
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