They have filled me up again.
Today I am full of cloth nappies and I can see another pile of towels waiting in line.
Those towels will have to wait in line because this nappy load needs doing twice.
I feel like I have to work twice as hard some days and even then I will still find grape skins and seeds inside me. It’s like my rinse function is a little bit faulty but really it’s just that I never get a break.
There’s always more washing.
They just don’t appreciate my hard work.
I mean, yesterday I choked on a breast pad and nobody noticed, patted my back, helped me cough it out. Nothing.
I feel like Cleopatra.
Everything is awash with milk. Today I have a set of sheets, five singlets, three full baby change outfits, two swaddles, baby towels, cot sheets, toddler sheets and a whole pile of breastpads to play with. There’s a stack of flannels and several tea towels, dish cloths, a pair of jeans, bibs and even some underwear all covered with milk.
It’s not my job to ask questions, but sometimes I wonder where it all comes from – and how there can be so much of it.
I’m not paid to ask questions though. Actually, I’m not paid at all. My payment is seeing the clean and bright laundry on the line again, waving.
Sometimes I wave back (when no one is looking).
They say ______ happens.
I don’t know how it happens, but there seems like there has been a lot of happening going on.
Thank god they empty most of the contents down the loo before it gets to me. I mean, really.
The small ones just churn it out. Onesies, singlets, cardigans, pants, nappies, dresses and even men’s tees. Nothing is spared.
I can’t keep up.
I’m thinking of feigning a short circuit.
Breastpad. Breastpad. Breastpad. Breastpad.
Singlet, singlet, singlet, jeans, yoga pants, sock.
Overalls, coveralls, pants, tees, other sock.
Tea towels, towels, cot sheets, mattress protector.
Togs and beach towels.
Sand. Sand. Sand.
I should be in a different line of work.
No washing today. I have a nice coffee date with the dryer. She is hot.
Someone has done a full house sweep to find me more laundry. The floor-drobes have been turned back into war-drobes.
War-drobes. That’s a funny word when it’s hyphenated.
I’m not just a pretty face.
Jeans and dresses and more baby messes.
This evening I finally got to do a load of ‘just’ adult clothing.
This takes me back. I still remember the days when I only washed on weekends…
Outie – reducing the stresses of parenting messes one day at a time/putting the fun into starting a family
P. S – free shipping sale on now