Ugh . . . need I say more? If the act of just doing the laundry isn’t bad enough, why must is throw such riddles and complex problems that must be solved before you can load the machine. I am not talking the simple act of sorting or the negotiation with the laundry gods about combining inappropriate pieces that might not mix well when wet. No, I’m talking about the forever dilemma of about to put a load in and realizing you are wearing something that should be going in with said load. That just drives me nuts. Nothing like working on a load of “whites” (we aren’t talking undies, we are talking about Mom’s white t-shirts and Dad’s white oxfords – the whites you really hope stay white – not the ones you sacrifice to the laundry gods mixed with gym socks, boxer shorts and sports bras) for a couple of weeks only to realize you are wearing not only a white t-shirt but a white bra that really should go in the load or wait another couple of weeks while you build the load once more.
So what do you do? Go around topless for the rest of the night? Just free ball it? change and dirty a colored t-shirt instead or just hope you’ll get a “small load” in sometime soon? Dilemma, dilemma. There has to be an old wives tale here somewhere, doesn’t there? Red sky at morn, sailor forlorn, Red sky at night, sailor’s delight? With my luck it would turn out to be something like – No bra tonight, knocked-up just right.
The load is in and I won’t tell you what I decided. Let’s just hope you don’t figure it out in nine months!
No comments:
Post a Comment