At some point, one must do laundry…it’s something you just can’t avoid if you want to have clean underwear and fit in with clean smelling society.
I had to face my laundry today. I’d done about eight loads and piled it onto the couch, folded the towels, and traipsed off to the park, and then…the grocery store.
I am having my in-laws over for dinner tonight, so I had to gather supplies, rally the troops and buy the fixings for dessert. Every time my Father-in-Law comes over, he asks about dessert. I didn’t want to be caught dessert-less.
At the park, I pushed kids in swings, and faithfully held my cell phone in my hand, because there’s always the chance that someone will want to show my house. However, at the grocery store, I somehow managed to forget my phone in the car.
I bought onions under the false illusion that my phone was tucked into my diaper bag (or shall I say Sheldon’s diaper bag) (note: the onions were not part of my dessert menu).
A million years later, I stumbled back into the sunlight, having been delayed by a small “Shopper in Training” who insisted on driving a mini version of a cart, which seemed to have a mind of itself and desperately wanted to crash into the wine display.
I saw my phone in the cup holder and gasped.
In a panic, I saw that I had a missed call and…it was a realtor asking to show my house in the morning (Who says, “sometime this morning” when arranging to view a house? Could you be any more vague?). I look at the time: 11:18 a..m., hardly any morning left.
I drove to my house, wishing (for the 15 millionth time) to be Mary Poppins. Do you think that the finger snap house cleaning trick works in a five mile radius or do you actually have to be in the room?
Sadly, I have not figured out how to snap my fingers, and so my laundry job is still not a game, and I had to face the possibility that strangers were investigating my home, exposed to hazardous amounts of washed socks and towels and Toy Story undies.
I pulled up and there they were, standing in my front yard. I begged for five minutes, apologized, yanked children out of the car, ignored my groceries in the trunk and directed them to the back yard.
I raced around, throwing laundry into crevices and corners, hiding cereal bowls and pretended that Jack-in-the-Boxes are the newest design trend (I think everyone should have one to cast sideways under their desk). Finished, I glance outside to see them gathered around the patio table, looking at the lawn. And what’s on the patio table?
A diaper is on my patio table that strangers are standing around.
Who put the diaper on the table?
I don’t want to point fingers, but it was NOT me.
I have my suspicions…
Guess what else I noticed when I went to put some body wash away after they had left?
The toilet had not been flushed…because sometimes even superheroes forget bathroom etiquette.
This has been my day so far. Could I be any more mortified? No. I think not.
Will these people buy my house? HA. I guess crazier things have happened.
Will I be running off to the store/park without deep cleaning my house first? Not while it’s on the market.
Ms. Dirty Diaper Laundry Monster No Flush