My children and I have been quietly fighting about their dirty laundry since the moment winter break started.
Ok, mostly I’ve been fighting about it.
First, my silent refusal to pick up their dirty clothes.
Then my stoic decision not to take the stinky mound of cloth to the basement for laundering.
Then my ever increasing vocal opposition to the amount of laundry accumulating in their rooms. Texts, even.
Protests have been held.
Marches planned and executed.
Proof of its harm has been submitted : photos of socks embedded in dog poo as Exhibit A. [Don’t worry, I won’t expose my readers to the harm caused by such a graphic image.]
Dirty laundry is not a victimless crime, I say : the dirty clothes nearly killed the family dog ! A sideways glance over a bag of chips is all I get.
And these arbiters of dirty clothes, they are not the innocents they seem to be – making more dirty laundry every day, twice a day, when they change into a fresh set of pajamas to slouch around the house and watch bad TV.
So the mountain of dirties has grown and grown. It’s now practically the size of the southern border wall that Trump wants …. and finally, I felt I had no choice but to threaten a mama shutdown.
But no one seemed to care, not even the dog – who has been enjoying the supply of smelly socks.
A reason to wish for the start of the new (school) year and the end of the break!?