After weeks fighting an upper respiratory infection, I seem to be getting better. I'm on another round of antibiotics, and the doctor has added Singular to fight off the cough I've developed. Hopefully, I'll be completely over this soon.
While I was down for the count, my family ran wild. Those three hooligans were living in the most appalling conditions. It makes a frat house look like a page out of Southern Living. The floors hadn't been swept or vacuumed, the bathrooms weren't cleaned, and the laundry situation was bad enough that I had to start a triage program.
There are four laundry baskets lined up outside the laundry room door like patients in the ER waiting room. .... clean underwear, socks, and towels; then machine washables, and finally .. if ever... hand washing. I finished off two loads yesterday and was just plain tired. I'd promised myself some time to catch up on e-mail and blogs, but I could hear the call of the washing .......................................
"Underwear, would you step this way please?" I ask. The other laundry all glares at me.
"I know Towels and Washcloths, it's been a long wait. You will be the next basket called." This pushy bunch whine that I'll be sorry when I want a shower. But hey, we all know that underwear trumps towels. "If I'm desperate I'll USE THE GUEST TOWELS" ..... Ahhhhh. That shuts those two up for awhile. Down the line another basket starts to whine.
"I'm very sorry Dishtowels, but you will have to wait for a separate wash. No, I can not squeeze you in with the underwear. We have health code standards." Dishtowel points to the mile long line of dirty laundry and smirks.
We're off to Math class for Morgan. Billy and I are doing the grocery run while we're out. I won't tell you the rude remarks coming from the pantry and refrigerator. It's best not to encourage them.