There’s a flaw in my domestic system.

I feel I handle the major stressors of life fairly well.  New jobs.  Sickness. Moving across the country.  The sadness and loss that inevitably finds us all.  I honestly take it all in stride.  My closest friends comment on my “consistency”; meaning, I think, that I generally don’t run too high or too low.  I just kinda take one day at a time, doing my thing.

That said.

The prospect of having two different basketball uniforms clean for a combined 6 or 7 games a week….

…this stress, I cannot handle.

All that consistency of character flies right out the window when I realize an hour before a game that there’s a uniform needed, and ALL EYES ARE ON ME.  It’s your time to shine, mom! Your boys both need a jersey, t-shirt, shorts, and socks! And don’t forget the shoes! Oh – and warm-up pants! Now GO woman, GO!

Where is that blasted uniform?!?!

Flinging clothes out of the dryer madly to no avail. 
“Nope, not in there!”  
Resorting to looking through the dirty laundry of two elementary school boys.  
“No one deserves this!  HOW on earth do your clothes smell SO bad?!?” 
Hoping it’s not wet in the washer. 
“Shoot!  Of course it is!  Give me 20 minutes to get it dry! Yes, I know the game starts in 30 minutes.  THAT LEAVES US PLENTY OF TIME! GET OFF MY BACK PEOPLE!!!”

It’s really enough to make me weep just thinking about it.



4 comments on “There’s a flaw in my domestic system.

  1. Calm down, breathe deep, and repeat: “I love doing laundry, I love the smell of clean clothes, I love the smell of laundry detergent, I love the tranquil sounds of running water coming from my washer and the gentle humming of my dryer, etc. etc….just keep saying it until you get it! πŸ™‚

  2. I FEEL YOUR PAIN!!! Whenever you have those moments, I want you to think about me. When I have a crisis like that, I cannot simply put it a wonderfully convenient and fast American washer/dryer. My kids have to wear them dirty or wear something else if I do that because I have to hang dry most of our clothes. πŸ™ Last time we were in the States and I used my mom’s dryer, I almost wept of envy.

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