Last week, I talked about a pet peeve I didn't even know I had-- well, before I found out about that pet peeve, there was a GIANT, and I mean
GIANT
pet peeve I did know I had.
It has to do with laundry, and it goes something like this:
If you stick clean clothes back in the hamper, or in a pile in the couch and leave it there for an extended amount of time where they will surely wrinkle...
I will kill you.
No, okay... I'm kidding. I won't kill you, but you might just wish I did.
I don' t know when this started, I mean I didn't even start doing my own laundry til I moved out of my mother's house, which was when I was 19. I had to ask my first college roommate how it was done (true story). But it doesn't matter, because the point is... when I discover that this has happened, my chest gets tight, my face gets hot, and I want to explode. Yes, seriously.
I can't control it.
I'm a woman. and a mama.
Laundry matters, ya know?
Instead of exploding, I have somehow managed to convince myself to take 10 deep breaths (and we need every single one), and RE-DO the laundry. But you know what, I hate doing laundry, and enough is enough!
So yesterday, after the Hubs spent his afternoon doing this:
and then left this:
I had a slight meltdown.
I had every intention of calling the Hubs to simply and calmly remind him of my OCD/Anxiety/Panic attack about laundry, but it came out more like this:
The fiesty came out.
I tried and tried to suppress it, but I just couldn't control it.
So this is my public apology:
Dear Hubs,
I'm sorry. Don't hate me :)
Love,
Me
