there is a literal mountain of dirty laundry in our basement (see photo once i get around to taking it). it’s reaching critical mass down there. yet, i would rather wear that ugly, faded stretched-out shirt with the big grease stain across my chest (socks? who needs socks?) than slog down there and stick my head into our latest batch of festering laundry liquor. today, after yet another chaotic morning spent tearing through the house looking for “clean” clothes, i went to fred meyer and bought a gallon of laundry detergent and a two-week supply of new socks and underwear for all. and now the problem is solved. apparently denial is the way i roll.
i’m wondering what miserable domestic project you hate from the very depths of your soul and the lengths you’ll go to avoid doing it. photos are always welcome, will make me feel better.