I love my kids and husband.
*twitch*
I love my kids and husband.
*twitch*
I love my kids and husband.
*twitch*
Even though I am sick and tired and my kids won’t take a nap and my car has a flat tire, which could have been avoided if my husband would have just filled up the fucking thing in the first place like I asked him to.
*twitch*
Current Mood:
Angry & 
Sickly
As part of an unintentional experiment, I have allowed a mountain of laundry to pile up on our bedroom floor.
I originally pulled it out to separate and throw into the washing machine… but yeah, that never happened.
Instead, it has grown to immeasurable proportions and is beginning to smell like my husband’s college dorm room. Because men have stinky feet, of course.
One would *think* that eventually another inhabitant of this household would take the time to throw a load into the wash. But no, that hasn’t happened.
My lazy 6-month-old and toddler. Sheesh. Why the hell did I have kids if they can’t even keep clean clothes in my closet?
Day after day, the dirty clothes just continue to grow into a monstrous mound, complete with teeth and its own surly growl. It currently has its own moon called “Moron” circling in its orbit.
I frequently hear, “Wow, I’m pretty much out of shirts,” and, “I don’t have any clean socks”.
Then comes the dreaded, “Tamra, underwear has become a family emergency.” Emphasis on that last bit, no joke.
That’s James’ code term for… “Woman, clean the fucking laundry or my underwear, which I’ve been wearing for four consecutive days, is going to rot off my ass and leave bite marks on my delicate skin in its wake”.
You know, since men have no concept of washing the pile of laundry that they simply can’t even get around to lay down on their side of the bed.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, James does do laundry on occasion, but it’s after I specifically say, “Hey honey, can you please wash the white load before I get home tonight?”.
He’s good about it, really. Never complains, and he rarely shrinks one of my favorite shirts or throws a bra into the dryer.
However… when it comes down to the common sense hmmm… maybe I should do a load of laundry since I have no clean clothes and I’m forced to wear a parka to work on a warm day… he is simply, um, lacking in that department.
Men.
*eye roll*
Here comes the true question… should I do the laundry, or see how long it takes my darling husband to wash his own panties?
Current Mood:
Alarmed