i hate it with every fiber of my being.
like hate it so much that i'll let it pile up for weeks and then when i finally have to buckle down and do it because i should stop wearing the same pair of socks for three days there is literally so much laundry to do that i'm overwhelmed and just throw in the proverbial towel (because all the other ones are dirty) and lay on the couch.
but the other night shitler was all "are you ever going to do laundry?" and i was all "maybe sometime." and then he was all "well, this my last pair of socks so maybe sometime could be tonight." and then i was like "OH MY GOD FINE."
so after shitler left for bowling i begrudgingly headed to the basement.
down these harrowing steps.
|yes - i risk my life every single time i drunk-do-laundry and lug clothes down this death trap.|
so naturally - i fist pumped.
because the "murrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" sound meant frozen pipes and frozen pipes meant no doing laundry.
but then it dawned on me - i was on my last pair of underwear. DRAT.
so a bottle of wine and a few hours of blasting the pipes with a tiny space heater later i was back in business.
three-quarters of the cycle later - out of business. due to frozen pipes on the drainage end.
at this point - i'm basically convinced that the universe just doesn't want me to do laundry. because now i'm forced to fish out my necessary undergarments out of gross, freezing cold water till my hands are basically frostbitten. worst.night.ever.
but fear not - things have thawed since then.
both my hands and my pipes.
and some clothes are clean. finally.
but this spaz keeps drooling all over everything and in turn giving me more laundry to do.
|shut your drool mouth DOG|
p.s. i finally found the one bra i own. shockingly - it was at the bottom of a giant pile of dirty clothes.