Laundry, laundry, laundry. It’s the one thing that must continue to be done even when the world around you has gone awry.

As many of my childless peers do not know, babies=Holy Crap Laundry. Srsly, I wasn’t aware that I could have this much laundry. So, with my Post Giving Birth In My Fricking Bathroom Brain, it was difficult to remember when I might or might not have started some laundry. Since we are currently living in my in-law’s basement and they are strategically placed near the appliances which clean my clothing, my mother-in-law often helped with the laundry.

At first, I felt bad. I tried to finish my own laundry, but alas, I forgot. I resorted to setting a timer on my phone. This is when I found out our washer is a dirty, mischievous liar. It claims that it takes 52 minutes to wash clothes, so I set my alarm for 1 hour. After the alarm going off and me dinking around for a bit, I go upstairs only to find it has “8 minutes” left. Dirty, mischievous liar.

So on she went with finishing my laundry. She even folds the clothes! And on I went feeling distraught that she was forced to do my laundry. And on she went saying she didn’t mind. It kind of became our “thing.”

Today, I had a genuine plan to switch the laundry before leaving for class. Of course, being the Lindstrom I am, I was running late. I realized when I was half way to Curtis’s work that I forgot, so I called her and asked her to switch it over (mostly to be polite). She was a little short over the phone, but I figured that she was just busy. Then I come home to unfolded laundry… so this begs the question, is my mother-in-law mad at me?

On a semi-related topic. Curtis was changing a diaper today and Peanut pooped all over the changing mat. This results in more laundry, but it also results in ROFLMAO!!!