Underwear

I am still trying to perfect my layout...bear with me. I like this new one..not too sure about the pink tho.

I am still lying in bed at night with millions of thoughts running through my head. I constantly think of clever, life changing things to say on my blog, only to forget the next day while I am sitting here watching the cursor blink, mockingly (it's threatening me).

I have a giant pile of clean laundry heaped on my bed, waiting for me to stop procrastinating and head in there to fold/hang/hide under the bed...etc. I actually do not mind doing the laundry, putting it in the washer, then dryer piece of cake. It is the act of moving the clothes from the dryer, to the bedroom/folding/putting away, where the problems unfold (pun intended). I HATE folding clothes, my typical way of dealing with this issue is to pour myself a LARGE glass of bourbon & Diet Coke, turn on whatever shows I have waiting for me in the DVR, and plow through the weeks clean laundry (that now looks like the Mt. Everest of underwear and towels) piled so high on my bed I can barely see past it.

As I slowly progress through underwear everest, my folding skills typically begin to decline around the 3rd or 4th refill of my drink (which my husband so happily brings me...he likes clean, folded underwear...who knew). By the time I am finished I have usually decided that crumpling t-shirts and shoving them in husbands underwear drawer, does actually make sense...hey it is put away right? I firmly believe that if I cannot see it, its clean. This actually beats living out of the hamper all week right?? Yeah, I dunno either.

But, as I have said many times in the last several weeks, no bourbon. So, I am finding myself in a serious dilema....how am I to get all these clothes folded...Am I actually expected to sit and FOLD all of them?

Fuck that!

I think that we should become a naked society again...folding laundry is for suckers!

Who is with me?

**holy shit, did I just write an entire post about folding laundry? What. The. Fuck.