…I did all the laundry. ALL of it.

And I don’t mean “it’s sitting in a bunch of baskets on the stairs waiting to be put away,” either. I mean that every single article of clothing, every towel, every washcloth, every fiber in need of cleansing has been washed, dried, folded, and hung up or tucked away where it goddamn belongs.

Yup, even the dish towels. And the bath mats. And that pile of underwear the kids hid under the sink for some reason. I did it all.

And then I put the empty baskets in laundry jail.

Even better: I’ve got the kids’ clothes sorted. All of Lulu’s hand-me-downs that can physically be handed are now down, and all of Sunny’s snug fits have been mourned and packed up in a box to go off to GreenDrop. The school year can begin without anybody tripping over themselves to find an outfit, and I only cried a little.

I kicked the laundry’s ass and it deserved it.

Standard

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