I hate laundry. It's one of those chores that just never ends. The washing isn't so bad, drying doesn't really bother me, but folding and putting away is like stabbing myself in the forehead with a fork... over and over and over and over. Just not something I want to do all day. I try to keep up, I really do. And for a couple months, I can keep up. But then something will happen, a hurricane or a power outage, alien abductions or choosing sex instead, whatever it may be, and I'll miss one week. One week. That's all it takes to ruin my life. After one week, I have 4 loads to do, and I never, ever want to do 4 loads in our washer and dryer. So... I just let it pile up and pile up, I mean hell, my family has enough clothing that we can manage well over a month without doing laundry. Lord, that sounds awful. I would show you a picture of my laundry room, but it's just too embarrassing (the rest of my house is spotless, I swear. And babe isn't alowed anywhere near the laundry room [she would be lost in there forever]).
The inability to open the laundry room door doesn't force me to do laundry. I would just push and shove and pile forever if it were possible. But there is one event that always occurs right around the 12 load mark (I'm not kidding) and it's something that I just can't deny.
I need to go to the laundromat within 14 days, 20 if I buy a six pack of cotton unders from Wally World...
I promise, I'll go tomorrow... or maybe Thursday. Definitely Friday, if not before. Promise.