I'm such a slacker

I haven't written anything here in over a month. My friend Mary asked me if my fingers are broken. I was tempted to say yes, but... well, she knows better. I think she's tired of looking at Timmy the Turd. Understandable.

I could say that the winner inside me took over for a month or so, but that's laughable, too. It is true, that the start of school brought much activity to my world. Bryan started high school this year, and Molly started Pre-K. I feel like I spend my life in the car. I figured it out the other day, what I was paying per month for the use of my car. Even given the fact that it's paid off, with gas and insurance, the cost to square footage ratio makes it an extremely expensive living space. Unfortunately, it's a necessary evil. Public transportation where I live sucks, and there are a lot of rural areas.

I have no idea where I was going with that train of thought, so I'll sum it up this way:

Booooo gas prices. *two thumbs down*

I vow to be a better blogger. If I don't, I'll let Mary break my fingers. Seriously. (Think that would get me out of doing dishes for a while?)

I'm a complete and total slacker. It's evident in the fact that the dust bunnies under my furniture brandish weapons and have organized an army. It's evident in the fact that my "to be washed" pile is always larger than my "to be folded" pile. Gosh, it's even evident in the fact that I have a "to be folded" pile.

I will never be one of those people who fold laundry directly from the dryer. I'm more of an "Is anyone out of underwear, forcing me to wash clothes?" kind of laundry person. I see no problem with this. Well, not usually. On occasion, I need a specific item of clothing and have to do emergency laundry. Those are the times when I curse my slovenliness, but it doesn't last long - only about as long as the dryer takes to run a cycle.

I'm fortunate to have a washing machine that runs a cycle in less that 15 minutes. It chugs and scrubs and cleans my clothes like a poorly paid laundry lady, minus the poorly paid part. I pay my washer well. Two dollars a load, to be exact. I am the proud owner of a coin-operated washing machine. Our washing machine went kaput a couple of years ago. I assumed my husband would fix it, because that's what he does. He has a huge box of zip ties and thousands of dollars worth of tools. He fixes everything. Everything except my washing machine. This time, he promised to bring me home a new one.

I should have questioned that, but my brain malfunctioned and I let it go. He brought me home a washing machine. He has a friend who picked up a great deal on a truckload of coin-operated washing machines, and he worked out some kind of deal with him to get one of them. I don't know what the deal was, because I didn't ask. I was too busy standing with my mouth open, wondering if I had enough quarters in the house to do a load of laundry.

I lose my laundry quarters often. They dissapear into little pockets, toll booths, the hands of the ice cream truck driver, and the bottom of the washing machine. It's a mystery how they wind up in the washer, and it's annoying that I never discover that until I've dumped the whole load in there and tried to start the cycle. You'd think I would learn to check for quarters before I put the clothes in the washer, right? Why do I even have to worry about that? Seriously, if I start questioning all the weird things that happen in my life, I'll never have time to do another load of laundry, ever. Hey... that's a good plan.

I'm feeling extra slackerish today. I know, that's not a word, but I'm too lazy to find the right one. It's raining outside and I have nothing pressing to do. It might be a good day for a princess tea party with my daughters. Heck, maybe I'll even throw a load of laundry in the washer while we're having tea and cookies. If I can find enough quarters, that is.