My Never Ending Story...

Sadly, it is not a tail about a wondrous fantasy adventure through the pages of a mysterious book (yes, I am a proud child of the 80's and I may have had a crush on Atreyu (in hindsight - really?) and I still tear up when I remember the scene with his horse, Artax, and no, don't watch that movie as an adult - here is why) - but rather, my NeverEnding story is about my nemesis...laundry.

As you can see, and as you might guess with three kids and one husband, I do a LOT of laundry. It piles up on the counter, which I love and is from my favorite Swedish retailer, but it piles up, and up and up until no one can find their underwear in the monstrous mess and so, my quest (lacking in all wondrous fantasy) begins. My objective: to rediscover my lovely wooden counter top - and, you know, get people their undies.

Sometimes, after hours and hours of standing in the hot sun (my laundry room faces south, it is actually one of the best rooms for sunshine in the house, a shame really) I rediscover my beloved friend. My friend who is always there to hold the next load of clothes until I can wrestle it back into the dresses and drawers. My friend who holds onto bottles (both baby and beer alike) until I have a free hand to take them down to the kitchen. My friend who holds whatever mess I leave there until I have time (hahahaha) to clean it up or put it away.

Thank heavens for my lovely sun bathed laundry room with my b-e-a-utiful walnut butcher block counter top, because most of the time, the the laundry I fold isn't mine, and once I have unburied my friend, there is always more in the dryer and even more waiting to go into the wash.

To all of you fellow laundry vanquishers out there - God speed and good luck!