Oh Laundry… (Insert head shake). Our relationship has been a string of vicious cycles. I place you in the wash, then the dryer. I fold you or hang you back in the closet and within just a few days there you are calling out to be washed. Why do you torture me so?
Let’s be honest the act of washing you or drying you is really no big deal, but can’t you grow up a little and start hanging and folding yourself. If you could put yourself away as well that would really help. I guess I can bring you upstairs, but I am serious when I tell you that I have had enough of you just laying around in baskets and piles not helping. There is too much of you for you to think you can’t pitch in.
While we are on the topic, could you please stop losing the baby’s socks? You blame it on the dryer, but my socks always make it out alive. Meanwhile the baby’s socks, even when I use the little laundry bag, somehow never make it out in pairs. Seriously, what do you do with them all and where are you hoarding them? I just know I am going to find your stash one day buried in the corner of a closet or at the bottom of a drawer. I know they are cute, but for the sake of Baby C2’s feet and my wallet, please leave them alone.
I have tried to work with you. I have created schedules like wash all of H’s clothes on Monday and my clothes on Tuesday. Despite these efforts to manage you, you don’t seem to ever listen. So I am putting you on notice. If you literally don’t straighten up I will be forced to get out the iron and no one, myself included, will like that.
Peace, Love and No Laundry,
Image credit: Containerstore.com