Death by Laundry

This will be my epitaph. When Papaschnuck and I were free and single, living downtown, we'd take our laundry to the Laundromat every weekend and carefully wash and dry 2-3 loads. Since I suffer from a common, yet debilitating, form of momnesia, I cannot recall if we got our washer and dryer specifically for the impending birth of the first Schnuckie or before but it has been a life saver. How is it that the laundry pile can grow, like a living creature? It never ceases to amaze me that each additional child, creates a magical doubling effect of the laundry. How is it that a small (relatively speaking here), creature can generate 2-3 loads of laundry a week? I easily do 10-15 loads of laundry a week now and winter seems to make everything worse. Between the pajamas, workout clothes, towels, sheets, underwear, socks, shirts and pants, ( with the occasional skirt or dress), my laundry room is brimming. There are days I feel as though I can actually see the pile growing (and it doesn't smell pretty either).

On the bright side, I find, I have come to appreciate tangible jobs.( I initially wrote "love" but decided that that is a little to enthusiastic and appreciate is more apropos ). There is, however, something about starting a job and watching it progress and then being DONE that is just good for the soul, darn it. There are so many things that we do day to day that are intangible that I need to count my blessings and enjoy the tasks that are measurable. Perhaps I ought to celebrate the joy that can be had by completing those measurable goals. At least I don't have to go to the Laundromat anymore.

Now let's talk about dirty dishes.....