We got back from our trip to holiday trip late on Friday night. Everyone exhausted--nothing but unloading the car and minimal feeding of children happened over the weekend. Monday I woke up feeling awful. Thought I was in for full-on flu. Aches, nausea, sore throat, cough. I did not move from bed except to feed myself.
Meanwhile, Theo took the day off from work and worked like a Tasmanian devil. Fixed a leaky faucet, fed the kids, cleaned the kitchen, worked on figuring out a possibly broken dishwasher, and did mounds and mounds of laundry, and then took the older boys to the bank to open new accounts, and, finally, ended his day with a church council meeting which sucks the soul out of him every time. So, the man worked and worked yesterday.
Our road trip generated a carload full of items to be washed--we had clothes for cold and warm weather, swimsuits and beach towels, bedding for five kids...so much laundry. I realized at some point yesterday that he was just pulling things from the dryer but not folding and putting away. I was too tired to care.
Today I tackled it. First, this happened. I walked into the laundry room just as the big boys came home from school. I grabbed them and said: do you know which of these mounds are clean or dirty? Gus looked at a stack that was four overflowing laundry baskets tall, one stacked on top of the other, and said: that's clean. I said: how do you know? He said: nothing is brown.
Ew!!! (And the first bit of insight into the male mind.)
I started folding. I folded and put away for two straight hours and I'm still not done. Seriously. I keep finding additional piles of clean but wrinkled, semi-damp, laundry stuffed into corners. When Theo got home I pointed to the mounds of wrinkled laundry jammed on a shelf and said: uhm? What the hell? He said: I ran out of laundry baskets.
Okay. Second insight--when you have filled all the laundry baskets to overflowing and then begun piling things into corners--ISN'T THAT A SIGN TO STOP WASHING STILL MORE LAUNDRY???
I would like to say here that I responded in a kind and gracious tone demonstrating gratitude for my hard-working husband taking on this extra chore when already doing many things yesterday. I'd like to say that, but I cannot. Because I didn't.
And, just so you know, my nice roomy laundry room contains custom-made shelves, made by me, that hold individualized laundry tubs--one for each person with their name clearly written on the front--as well as additional space for towels and sheets. So, as soon as a load comes out of the dryer all you have to do is stand there and fold and place every single item in a designated spot. No delivery necessary! Just stand, fold, and stuff in a tub! Easy! Manageable! What a great system!
Final note: not a single person's tub had anything in it. He left those empty. While stuffing and stacking and piling in random corners.
And that is why I was not gracious. Though, I will admit here, he was very hard working and did a lotta work yesterday while I was sick in bed. A looooottttttaaaa work, that I had to undo today, with all the re-drying and fluffing. So thanks. A lotta.
Meanwhile, Theo took the day off from work and worked like a Tasmanian devil. Fixed a leaky faucet, fed the kids, cleaned the kitchen, worked on figuring out a possibly broken dishwasher, and did mounds and mounds of laundry, and then took the older boys to the bank to open new accounts, and, finally, ended his day with a church council meeting which sucks the soul out of him every time. So, the man worked and worked yesterday.
Our road trip generated a carload full of items to be washed--we had clothes for cold and warm weather, swimsuits and beach towels, bedding for five kids...so much laundry. I realized at some point yesterday that he was just pulling things from the dryer but not folding and putting away. I was too tired to care.
Today I tackled it. First, this happened. I walked into the laundry room just as the big boys came home from school. I grabbed them and said: do you know which of these mounds are clean or dirty? Gus looked at a stack that was four overflowing laundry baskets tall, one stacked on top of the other, and said: that's clean. I said: how do you know? He said: nothing is brown.
Ew!!! (And the first bit of insight into the male mind.)
I started folding. I folded and put away for two straight hours and I'm still not done. Seriously. I keep finding additional piles of clean but wrinkled, semi-damp, laundry stuffed into corners. When Theo got home I pointed to the mounds of wrinkled laundry jammed on a shelf and said: uhm? What the hell? He said: I ran out of laundry baskets.
Okay. Second insight--when you have filled all the laundry baskets to overflowing and then begun piling things into corners--ISN'T THAT A SIGN TO STOP WASHING STILL MORE LAUNDRY???
I would like to say here that I responded in a kind and gracious tone demonstrating gratitude for my hard-working husband taking on this extra chore when already doing many things yesterday. I'd like to say that, but I cannot. Because I didn't.
And, just so you know, my nice roomy laundry room contains custom-made shelves, made by me, that hold individualized laundry tubs--one for each person with their name clearly written on the front--as well as additional space for towels and sheets. So, as soon as a load comes out of the dryer all you have to do is stand there and fold and place every single item in a designated spot. No delivery necessary! Just stand, fold, and stuff in a tub! Easy! Manageable! What a great system!
Final note: not a single person's tub had anything in it. He left those empty. While stuffing and stacking and piling in random corners.
And that is why I was not gracious. Though, I will admit here, he was very hard working and did a lotta work yesterday while I was sick in bed. A looooottttttaaaa work, that I had to undo today, with all the re-drying and fluffing. So thanks. A lotta.
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