This right here is the story of my life. Clothes. And hampers. And clothes that don’t make it in hampers.
We have laundry hampers stationed strategically around our house. There is one downstairs because boys strip as soon as they get in the door. There is one in the hallway between their rooms because their bathroom is too small to hold one. There is one in their daddy’s and my bathroom because three boys use our tub to save on bath time.
And yet there are still clothes on the floor.
This picture was taken after my 8-year-old’s bath last night. That white thing? That’s the hamper. The green shirt is touching the hamper. IT’S TOUCHING THE HAMPER. How much more effort would it have taken to get the shirt IN the hamper?
Apparently too much.
I don’t get it. I really don’t. Well, at least not until I walk back into our bedroom and trip over a pair of my husband’s jeans he left on the floor instead of tossing in the hamper.
Methinks I’m fighting a losing battle.
