Like taxes and death, laundry can't be avoided. Or can it? I've done pretty good at it for a couple weeks and now that I have procrastinated as long as I possibly can without 'going comando' I feel like I've been hit by a bus. My back hurts so bad I'm contemplating a trip to the chiropractor. Of course, I have to do at least one load of laundry first. I like my chiropractor but not enough to go without underwear. Because I hurt I'm in a foul mood, which my son picks up on and immitates. This has made the past couple of days tough on both of us- and Mike too as he is the lucky one that gets to put up with both of us.
Ok folks, the lights are flickering and the bartender is yelling 'Last Call' so I guess my pitty party is over. Now where did I put that Tylenol?