Thursday, October 24, 2013

The Laundry Monster

Yesterday, I decided to attack one of my home's dirty little secrets: the laundry room. This required a showdown with something looking roughly like this.

I was indeed afraid it was going to start talking to me. 
There was still dirty laundry under the humongous heap from our trip to Maggie's dance nationals. In July.

I loathe doing the laundry. I hate sorting it, being a slave to the time limits on the machines, folding it, sorting it again, trying to find somewhere to cram it when it is all clean. I feel like my entire married, maternal life has had, in the background, the annoying hum of those petulant machines. I've tried buying the lovely lavender smelling detergents, thinking that the allure of a pretty scent will make the task less aggravating. No such luck. I've even tried enlisting my husband to help out. He, in return, only washes his own clothes.

I would rather just buy new underwear. A/J

Oh, hell, at least I can laugh about it. And this is one of my favorite characters from my 80s childhood television addiction. 
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