Ugh. It’s just one of those days. I don’t feel very well, and I think it’s a virus, so all I can do is diffuse some Thieve’s oil and pray for the Sudafed train to run me over. In my feverish haze, I decided that I’d better catch up on some laundry. We do at least 3 loads a day at the Den, and missing a day means twice as much work for tomorrow…judging from the pile, I already missed a few days.
I folded for more than an hour, and I’m HALF done. I’m not sure if it’s the virus, the feel of wads of dryer sheets, or just plain Monday that causes me to start to rant. How many clothes do these people WEAR every day? Do they really need clean towels EVERY day? Why do we buy socks…none of them have matches, anyway…
That’s right. I’m talking to myself.
And I’m listening to one cub playing video games for the fifth straight hour…well, I think he came out for lunch…and I just don’t have it in me. I asked him this morning to clean his room, and he shoveled everything into a pile in the middle of the floor….what?! Who’s going to pick the dirty socks off of that…plate? What the heck! What kind of day do you have that your sock solidifies into a sculpture when you take it off? And we DON’T eat in our rooms. The big one. Don’t even get me started on her with her “music” blasting out of her iPhone in the bathroom…don’t they have volume control on those phones? What in heaven’s name is the purpose of making a phone that can play music at mind-numbing-concert levels? And why do I have to buy ear buds every time I go to the store if no one ever uses them? Do we just throw them directly into the garbage, or is there a process involved? Towels! She has one on the floor, one to dry with, and one wrapped around her head. Towels don’t grow on trees, you know! And they don’t wash and fold themselves, either!!!!
uh-oh. I feel it coming the moment before it flies out of my mouth, and I can’t stop it…
“I hope when you guys grow up your kids behave JUST LIKE YOU.” The Mother’s Curse. Am I turning into my mother, or is this just some rite of passage…like, they aren’t fully grown until you’re ready to lock them out of your house?
Anyway…note to self. When they have children, I will buy them LOTS of socks, and fingerpaints, and Moon Dough. And a Kazoo.