Remember the story of the miller's daughter who is asked - no, told - to spin a pile of straw into gold? And the funny little man who hears her crying and comes to do it for her? Well, I think of her every time I finally get around to sorting my clean laundry. I try to cry, but so far, the little man has stayed away. Maybe he knows that I won't be having a next-born child to give him and he's not too interested in taking away a teenage boy who eats a lot.
This is my pile of straw. There's more where it came from. I'm not too sure why I have such a hard time keeping up with the laundry. Some friends tell me that they don't buy anything that needs to be ironed. I can't figure out how they first locate clothes they like, that look good, are affordable (3 almost impossible requirements), and after that they look at the label and put them back on the rack if they'll need ironing. I don't get it. Other people say that they take everything out of the dryer right away and hang it up so it doesn't need ironing. Can't do it most of the time. Too busy driving boys around and feeding them. Besides, I have this thing about not wearing wrinkly clothes. Not even a little bit wrinkly. It's not good to be inefficient AND particular. Nothing ever gets done.
Meanwhile, my handsome prince is begging me for clean socks and underwear while I stand there crying for Rumplestiltskin to come and save me from the wicked witch of the laundry room. See? I told you I'm living a fairy tale!