Of course that would require us to get more slip covers for the couches. Ew!! Yeah, gross.
Oh my gosh, can you just imagine Owen nude all the time? He would be so up in his butt and playing with this nuts like they were stress balls. Which they are. I mean, he’s fiddling with them, they’re balls… you get the idea.
Before I started blogging, I would complain on my Facebook page about the laundry. I don’t read single people complaining about their laundry. Married folks without kids might gripe a little. Wives complaining about folding socks and undershirts. Maybe a husband wondering what in THE hell is with the once a month underwear from the misses that looks like a crime scene. But it’s not until you have children that you feel the pain of laundry. The burden that comes with the constant loads of clothes, towels, sheets, stinky socks, underpants. My favorite is the hunt. When I go to Emma’s room and her hamper is empty, but the clothes are strewn about the floor and she complains she has nothing to wear that just fries my craw. So goes with McSweetie. He has an entire pile of dirties, but the hamper is empty.
Now I know I don’t have to take them to the river or anything and beat them on wash boards. The clothes. Not the family members. Although maybe that would make them better at helping me! It’s the same as dishes. There will always be dirty ones. There’s always laundry. Always. Until we start going naked, there will always be clothes to clean. If we stop eating, we can stop loading the dishwasher. I prefer eating. I also prefer garments that cover my privates. So I suppose I will continue to do laundry.
We haven’t planned on moving to any remote island or getting shipwrecked a la Blue Lagoon style. So laundry it is.
And like most normal people who stare at a laundry basket piled high with clean things, I get out my video camera and decide how to vlog about it. I mean, right? You do that too don’t you?
So here’s my ballad to the laundry. I look really sad. I think I’m just overwhelmed.