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Collect dirty laundry from around the house. Don’t forget to check under and inside the couch, the bathtub and the cat beds.
Place as much laundry as you can fit into the washing machine. Don’t worry if it is falling out. Just keep pushing it in while pressing the door closed and quickly remove your arm at the last second.
Realize you forgot to buy laundry detergent. Head to Target with three kids in tow and spend twenty minutes in the dollar spot arguing that you’re not here for toys.
Stop by Starbucks for a Venti White Chocolate Mocha.
Roam the aisles aimlessly buying all the little items you have been meaning to get for the last few weeks.
Bribe your kids to leave the store with you by promising them a candy bar at the checkout.
Cry because you just spent $214 even though you only came for laundry detergent.
Realize you forgot the laundry detergent.
Decide dishwasher detergent will probably work just fine and drive home with a smile, you clever thing!
Get home and unload the car and the kids. Make sure you carry every single bag in one trip.
Rip one of the bags as you’re fumbling for your keys to unlock the door.
Get the kids and bags inside and then chase down the three cans of Diet Coke that have rolled down the driveway.
Relax on the couch for five minutes.
Open up a can of Diet Coke and spray yourself because you’ve grabbed one of the ones that got dropped.
Change your clothes and take the dirty ones to the laundry room.
Remember that you need laundry soap.
Head to the kitchen (tripping over a few Legos as you go) to steal a dishwasher pod (you clever thing!).
Realize you are out of dishwasher pods.
Leave the kids with the husband and drive to Target. You’re safe this time. No kids and you’ve already bought everything you needed.
Go straight to the soap aisle and grab laundry and dishwasher pods.
Head straight for the checkout. No distractions.
Make your way to the car with the eleven bags that somehow mysteriously appeared in your cart even though you don’t remember choosing them.
Go home and head straight for the laundry room.
Add your detergent and turn it on.
Have a cookie and a glass of wine. You’ve earned it.
Wait three days.
Realize you are out of underwear and your only clean bra is the one where the wire sticks out.
Collect all the dirty clothes from around the house and head to the laundry room.
Suddenly remember that you did a big load three days ago.
The smell! The smell!
Add more soap and run the same load all over again.
Realize the second wash did not remove the mildew smell.
Take them out anyway. Probably the dryer will fix it.
Add the new load into the washer and start both machines.
Get agitated that the wash finishes before the dryer does.
Wander the house aimlessly (stepping on Legos occasionally) until you hear the dryer buzz.
Run to the laundry room and open the dryer.
Realize that the smell has not gone away and has in fact intensified.
Remove the clothing from the dryer and head outside to the clothesline.
Run back in for your clothes pins.
Realize your kids have destroyed your clothes pins and you now need new ones.
Run to Target, spend $63.50 even though you are only there for clothes pins and go back home.
Search the yard for the various pairs of underwear the wind has blown around.
Hang the clothes outside and hope the fresh air removes the smell.
Go inside and have a Diet Coke.
Answer the door to your elderly extremely religious neighbor who is returning the thong that has been blown into her yard.
Cry and have a cookie.
Wait several hours until you remember to collect the laundry.
Congratulate yourself. The smell has dissipated immensely and probably no one will notice it except your husband and kids or anyone who gets within three feet of you.
Take the laundry inside and to your bedroom. Dump it out on the bed so you can sort through it and hang it up later.
Make dinner for yourself and the kids.
Go to bed.
Realize there’s a pile of clothes on your bed.
Move pile to floor and deal with it tomorrow.
Take a sleeping pill and go to sleep
Wake at 2 am in a drugged stupor and remember you forgot to put the load of freshly washed clothes into the dryer.
Debate getting out of bed to do it now.
Throw the covers off and fight the early morning cold to head down the stairs.
Curse loudly when you step on the first Lego.
Curse even more loudly at the second Lego.
Forget it, and go back to bed.
Calm the screaming baby whom you’ve awoken with your cursing.
Realize he needs a bottle, and you’re going to have to go down the Lego-crusted stairs after all.
Turn on every light in the house to make sure you can see where you’re going.
Make the bottle, comfort baby, go back to bed.
Realize you left all the lights on, and go back through to turn them all off.
Step on every Lego on your way back up the stairs.
Go back to bed and stare daggers at your husband who has slept blissfully through everything.
Sleep fitfully until morning.
Get awoken by your husband shaking you and asking, “Babe, I can’t find my striped shirt. Did you do laundry?”
Laugh hysterically as you contemplate a long vacation in the loony bin.
Refuse ever to do laundry again.