It’s Monday.  Sooooo, obviously . . . it’s Laundry Day.

The best/smoothest/make-me-feel-like-I’ve-got-this-homemaker-thing-down Laundry Days begin on Sunday evening.

So last night we gathered and sorted last week’s dirty clothes and I started a load of towels.

(Towels are my favorite Sunday Night Start Load because I can put them in the dryer and they won’t clank and knock around if I go to bed before they’re finished.)

But last night I almost forgot to put them in the dryer.

When I actually did remember, I felt a flash of pride.  But I opened the dryer to throw them in, and my pride went away.

Fast.

Because there was the load I had accidentally-on-purpose left in the dryer . . . since last week’s Laundry Day.

I was tired.  Like, I’d already decided I was done for the night BEFORE I walked past that blankety-blank laundry room and remembered that I needed to switch over the load of towels.

So . . . I consciously rebelled against my newfound understanding of what it takes to have a Super Duper Successful Laundry Day, and deposited that week-old load of sheets and towels on the loveseat.

I know.  The Laundry Hero has fallen.

But it was just ONE LOAD.

Except that this morning when I saw it (only because I have people coming over for lunch today), I realized that ONE load is enough to make the loveseat un-sit-on-able.

So one load, twenty loads . . . what’s really the difference?

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