Let’s talk about laundry.
I LOATHE laundry.
Nope. Scratch that. I HATE laundry.
I feel bad because I think it’s one of those things I should have told my husband before he married me. But I didn’t.
See that pile on the bed? It’s clean. Clean-ish.
That pile was washed a week ago. It’s been in a pile for a week on the bottom of my bed/on the floor. Need a shirt? Look in that pile. Need new undies? The pile.
See that laundry basket behind The Pile? That’s dirty laundry, SPILLING over the top.
Why does laundry hate me so much?
Do you see the time on the clock? You can’t really tell but it says 2:57, in the afternoon. That’s right. 3 in the afternoon and I haven’t even thrown a dirty load of laundry into the wash. NOT ONE.
I could blame the children.
I mean, after all I have been taking care of 3 kids under 4 all day…You know what? It’s all their fault! But I also hated/had issues with laundry B.C. (before children), so I guess it’s technically not their fault. Which only means one thing…
Nailed it! Nice one me, nice one…