Psst ... hey you. Yeah, you! I'm down here. Under this pile of laundry. See my fingers sticking out there, just enough to type this out on my laptop? Yep. That's me.
Okay, so I'm exaggerating. The laundry pile only comes up to my waist. All our clothes are clean, but seeing as I hate hate HATE folding them and putting them away, I've been procrastinating. So let's do some laundry-related math.
Two loads wrinkling in the basket + two loads I stuffed into the dryer on top of one another + one load in the washer ready to be dried = a (not-so) grand total of five freaking loads of laundry that I must sort, fold, and put away today.
Procrastination is so sweet, until you actually have to do what you've been putting off. Ugh. And I don't even understand where all these clothes are coming from, seeing as my kids are naked 80% of the time.
So anyway, seeing as our laundry is making me its be-otch today, I've found something fun from the archives for y'all to enjoy: the time Colin asked me to define "dick."
Until I get the clothes under control ...
