Before I left last Friday to run away to rub elbows with the rich and famous (incidentally, we saw PLENTY of rich, but only people who looked like other famous people), I was mostly caught up on laundry. On Thursday night, I asked sweetly, "Would you do a load of laundry while I'm gone?" (Nevermind that the load must have been put in at about 6 p.m. on Sunday, and sat in the washer until 8 a.m. Tuesday when I had to run it through again.)
Today, I'm up to my elbows in wash. I'd say I'm about five or six loads into it today and behind me there are 10 pairs of my husband's underwear folded on the bed. By my best homemaker math, at most there should be 8 pairs there. One pair a day from last Friday through yesterday, plus one or two that might have not gotten done before I left. What must be every single beach towel we own is also piled up behind me. Swim lessons ended last Friday, so again, there should be 4 or 5 there at most.
Where is all this dirty laundry coming from?!
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