Nine months pregnant, a woman told me, "I blame Eve for all that I am going through right now." Using that logic, the disaster area needing yellow tape that is my laundry room is her fault as well. If Eve didn't grasp the full extent of her folly when she ate the apple, she did when she had Cain and Able and started doing diapers.
No matter how much I spend at the Container Store to alleviate the dreariness of this life sucking activity, I must remember--the laundry room is a direct result of the curse, and there is not much I can do about it.
It is 4 a.m. in the morning. I can't sleep. I could be doing laundry. But I can always say that--I. Could. Be. Doing. Laundry.
It is times like these that those National Geographic people, whose tribes for modesty's sake require them to wear pot holders attached to strings around their waists, seem to have it made.
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