beating towels against a rock by the river
Our washing machine packed it in early this week, leaving us with a mountain of dirty clothes by this morning. I am amazed at how much laundry one small person can generate, coupled with a husband who runs or goes to the gym several times a week. So by this morning, things were getting dire. What was left in Jack's drawers either didn't fit him anymore (I've neglected to migrate the 9-12 month trousers to the loft) or wasn't warm enough. Scrambling to assemble an outfit, I debated about sending him to nursery in his pyjamas, a snowsuit, his Grobag with holes cut out for his legs, or the beaver Halloween costume my mother sent*. Luckily my laziness paid off and the pile of birthday clothes that hadn't been put away yet (and thus hadn't been worn) came to the rescue. Ripping the tags off a shirt and funky Baby Gap jeans, we were set for the day.
If the washing machine repair guy hadn't been able to fix our machine today, we would have been either knocking on the neighbour's door with a large bag and pathetic expression, or down at Tesco purchasing cheap babywear. All I've been thinking all week is "Please don't let Jack get the stomach flu."
*(Please note that I didn't seriously consider any of these outfits and this portion of today's blog was for comedic purposes only. Please do not ring social services. Thank you.)
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