I am still fighting the never-ending laundry battle, and today’s Goliath is the boys’ laundry. (It’s totally my mom’s fault that they each have enough clothes AND pajamas to go for a solid three weeks without running out of anything, but it’s my fault for letting it go that long. *sigh* We’re working on donating some of it, and putting away the kindatoosmall things for Anthony.) (I think I could *get* this laundry thing under control if I did one or two small loads each day and only had 7-10 complete outfits per person to worry about.)
Anyway, in preparation for today’s washer-dryer epic, last night I had Alex drag his (overstuffed!) laundry hamper and all of the clothes he had on his floor (Carpet! I didn’t know his room had that!) out into a large space so we could sort them and get things off to a good start this morning. When I put Anthony down for his morning nap, I noticed a handful of pajamas and underwear on the floor, so I scooped them up to add them to the (sorted) dirty clothes piles that dotted the living room.
Only, guess what I found in Alex’s clothes pile? (Not on, not under, but IN !) Go ahead… guess!
Oh yeah. It was poop. Animal (dog? cat? I think dog…) poop. FRESH animal poop, and I stuck my hand right in it.
Who wants to be me today?