If I Think About That Today, I’ll Go Crazy…

Have you ever started a job, and then realized that HOLY COW, MOSES AND ABRAHAM!  I AM JUST TOO EXHAUSTED TO KEEP GOING! and then quit before the job was finished?

That would have been me yelling out at Moses, by the way.

“But I’m tired, Moses, and I have sand in my ears, and I have sand in my toes, and I’m sick of eating manna, and we’ve walked so far today, and I have a blister, and my lips are chapped, and I really think that I’m just not cut out for desert life, and I didn’t have time to pack my sunscreen when we left, and my nose is peeling, and why couldn’t we be wandering somewhere close to a Red Lobster, and I really miss the cucumbers and melons and leeks back in Egypt, and when?  When can we stop, Moses?”

Hubs always tells me that I have a flair for the drama, and that the cast of Glee has nothing on my acting abilities.

At any rate, I’ve been known to remember at 7:30 PM that yes!  Yes, I actually DO have a load of wet clothes still sitting in the washing machine, and no!  No, I do not have the energy to go downstairs and transfer them to the dryer, because that would involve some intensive labor, as I’d have to get myself all involved in folding the clothes that were just sitting in the dryer.  So I do what any intelligent person would do:  I pretend that I forgot them completely, and I rewash them the next day.

Sometimes I’ve rewashed the same load of clothes as many as three times, because of my inability to remember that my Whirlpool has the dark load sitting in it, and that the dark load is WET.

It’s all because it’s usually the WHITE LOAD that’s sitting in the dryer, and if there’s one batch of clothes that makes me whine and grumble and long for a live-in housekeeper who would take Fridays off in exchange for always folding my laundry, it’s the white load.  There are just too many socks to match, and the white load is always the biggest load, where I win first place every year in the How Full Can You Pack the Whirlpool and Still Get It To Work Properly contest.

(For the record, Hubs tries to get me to plum stop competing in this contest every month, but I still do.  And I still come away with the Grand Champion ribbon.  There just ain’t no one else who can pack a machine like I can.)

(My mother always tells me that I wouldn’t have this problem, if I’d just do laundry more often.)

(For the record, my mother is usually right.)

(But sometimes, I just take Scarlet O’Hara’s philosophy:  “I can’t think about that right now.  If I do, I’ll go crazy.  I’ll just think about that tomorrow.” And then I do.  I think about the wet clothes the following day, and I try my best to get them rewashed and to get the white load folded, so that I can dry things again, so that the cycle isn’t repeated.)

No matter.

I just wanted to show you that I’m not the only one who has issues with being so worn out with the first half of the job that I’m unable to finish the second half of the job.  I have photographic evidence.

Hubs got the plastic wrap off of that brand new roll of paper towels, before he was overwhelmed with the work load and gave up.  The good thing, though, is that he set the new Bounties really close to where the old ones had been.

And I think that Hubs wishes that we had a live-in housekeeper, too, who would take Mondays off in exchange for always unscrewing the top of the paper towel holder and replacing the roll.

Without giving up before the job has been finished.

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