don't ask me why i'm such a glutton for punishment, but after grocery shopping today (and i know, Maureen...mine is NOTHING compared to what you go through), i decided to do laundry.
why? because i am the daughter of the Marquis de Sade.
and since i had rummaged enough quarters to make my coin jar at work lighter, i thought no time like the present.
'sides, if i do my chores now, i can play this weekend. i have no idea what to play. just play.
the Husband hasn't done laundry since i was in Reno, not that i'm surprised, but, a girl can dream.
besides, i thought (as part of my new attitude)that only i am responsible for my own happiness.
oh, and my own laundry.
again, offspring of M. de Sade, doing laundry makes me happy.
a sense of accomplishment. a feeling of "well done thou good & faithful servant."
i realized that to get across the complex, hauling a laundry basket AND the rolling cart that contains our laundry supplies, would be nigh on impossible. so i used my brain (?!) and hauled down this contraption the Husband created..a dolly with a sheet of plywood across it. (see, the bars are movable, so it can be used as a dolly or as a flatbed.)
as such, i can s-l-o-w-l-y w-a-l-k d-o-w-n t-h-e s-t-a-i-r-s carrying said laundry and cart. after hauling the flatbed down the stairs, of course.
now i am ready to meander across the complex to get some laundry done.
oh, won't the Husband be surprised when he comes home to find dinner AND laundry completed? why, perhaps the man will take me out for a steak dinner! or buy me some lovely bauble! or put the toilet seat down!!
hey. it's my fantasy. let me live it.
as i entertain such thoughts and arrive at my destination, i find my prayers have been answered: no one is doing laundry (with only four washers & dryers for a 50 unit complex, well...you see how lame it is).
wait...what's that notice on the door?
"LAUNDRY FACILITY IS FOR TENANTS OF PINECRAP, ER, PINECREST ONLY. USE YOUR GATE KEY TO ENTER. LOCK DOOR BEHIND YOU - PROTECT YOUR GOODS."
so i leave my goods, and trot my fat arse back upstairs to fetch my key, trot down said stairs (tell me why again the Husband insisted we get an upstairs apartment?)and across to the room where thankfully my dirty clothes are still there unmolested.
because you know how tempting dirty chonies are.
i have already sorted, so while the washers fill, i add soap and realize: i've left the Downey balls upstairs.
well, to hell with it. we have Bounce sheets. if the Husband complains his chonies are scratchy, i will smile my sweetest and tell him to scratch 'em, then.
Gentle Reader - while i am a huge advocate of being responsible for one's individual happiness, i have decided that perhaps it cannot be found while doing laundry.
it can, however, most likely be found in a Reese's Peanut Butter cup. or a yummy slice of coconut cream pie.
it's rough being so responsible.