I can do two loads a day and I still have Mt. Everest waiting to be done. It laughs at me. Sneering at me and sprawling out. It's having more 'dirty laundry babies' every time I turn around to deal with the dishes, vacuuming, or very, very important things like say, blogging.
You see, I have four kids. Add one Mr Coffee who job generates more laundry than a 20 story Hilton Hotel.
My two year old believes her goal in life is to be as naked as possible no matter how often I dress her. See, its more fun to draw on your belly than a piece of paper. Didn't you know? This makes 1, 2, 8, 12 loads a day.
When by chance that a blue moon hits the sky and my laundry does get done, I will then start in like a maniac folding everything I can get off my couch. It's a race against my children. They are natural-born flinging machines and find all sorts of creative ways of catapulting the laundry about the room. Even as you read, (Blink.....Blink......Blink) there is a laundry stack, neatly folded, that is being eyed by a toddler who has a real future at the Olympic shot-put.
So what if my couch looks like the testing ground for Downey Wrinkle and Release Spray? So what if I'm picking Cherrios off my newly washed T-shirt. Sigh. I just don't think I'll win this one.
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"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe