When I found out I was pregnant with William the very first thing I said was, "I need a bigger washing machine and dryer." When I got pregnant with Lauren I said, "I need a bigger laundry room."
I had no idea that laundry would become my life but it has, it seems. I have a system and I'm somewhat organized so it's not that I need tips on how to keep it all straight. And I don't even sort colors, I keep it as simple as possible. I do linens and towels separately, otherwise it's every color, every person's clothes, all the same temperature. I dry everything but jeans and bras so hanging clothes isn't really an issue either. But for reals, it's never ending. Like, never ending. I'm caught up for a morning but then by the evening it's five pairs of underwear, five pairs of socks, 5 shirts, 5 pairs of pants, and usually at least 3 sweatshirts. That doesn't include an additional pair of Lauren's pants that may be added to the mix sometimes due to no-diaper accidents. It also doesn't include the change of sheets that occurs at least once a week from one of the kids IN ADDITION to the weekly changing-of-the-sheets anyway. If I neglect it for a day (or two or three) oh, holy hell. My big convenient laundry room is one big mound that just taunts me. I swear as I walk by that room I can hear it murmur my name. I cuss at it and sometimes even kick it but the outcome is always the same, it never changes unless I do it. And I do take full responsiibility. Chris is the mortgage fairy and I am the laundry fairy. In all honesty I think I do have the better job so I don't complain. Well, at least not aloud. Just here, to all the other laundry fairies who are reading this. Can you feel me on this?
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