Thursday afternoon I spent as a laundry whore. Meaning I did ALL the laundry. Washed, dried, folded.
Right about the time I was pretty much all done one of my darling children informed me that she (or he) needed hers (or his) dark jeans washed. For tomorrow, of course.
Where might those particular jeans be?, you might ask...
On her/his floor. Of course.
So take note: Around here apparently clean clothes go in the dirty laundry, and dirty clothes go on our respective bedroom floors.(Or sometimes shoved in dresser drawers).
I know you'll all come visit me in the loony bin. Right?