On Tuesday night I went to bed early because I had to get up at 4:00am on Wednesday. After one-and-a-half Ambien, I was snoozing at, roughly, 9:30pm.
My husband was at a hockey game, so when I started getting ready to hit the hay (at 8:15…because that’s how long it takes a woman to actually move from the couch to bed when there are a dozen obstacles in her way…oh, for instance, like her 12 year old’s paper on kangaroo rats) I sent my husband a text telling him he had a short “honey-do” list waiting on the kitchen counter. It should be noted, that this is something I never do.
The list said:
1. Please fold the clothes in the dryer to the best of your ability.
2. Put the clothes from the washer into the dryer.
3. Throw the towels we use for the dogs into the washer, with lots of detergent, bleach and hot water.
When I woke, long before the sun had risen, I went to finish the laundry he had started, only to find that he had already done it. TWO loads of laundry were folded and stacked on the dining room table instead of just one.
When he got out of bed I asked, “What got into you?”
Which is when any impression that he had done it out of the goodness of his heart was vanquished when he replied, “Because, now you won’t be able to say that I haven’t done a single load of laundry in 16 years.”