Wet towels

My day today went something like this:

Go downstairs, throw load of towels in wash.

Go upstairs to do stuff.

Go downstairs with intent to throw towels in dryer, see cluttter, detour to pick up clutter, stand in front of stairs trying to remember why I came downstairs, open freezer, take out meat.

Go upstairs to do stuff.

Defrost meat, remember no towels upstairs, go downstairs to laundry room, enroute detour to office to turn on downstairs computer, walk past laundry room thinking about upstairs computer, go upstairs to do stuff.

Go out, pick up Ben at school, take kids to mall and store for birthday presents, wait for girl to finish screaming fit in parking lot, remember wet towels in washer.

Make mental note to throw towels in dryer when I get home.

Get home, Ben goes to take toy out of garage, I walk halfway through house toward basement steps, he calls me back because he saw a racoon in the garage.

Go outside, look for racoon, remember last time noise from talking radio station kept them out, go inside side door to enter basement to pick up old radio and extension cord, go up to garage, deal with that.

Remember wet towels as I’m detangling fucking extension cord.

Kids screaming about something, on edge, don’t know what to make for dinner, go downstairs to see what’s in freezer (NO I DON’T RECALL THAT I TOOK MEAT OUT ALREADY), walk past laundry room doors and don’t register that





Neighbour kid comes by, kids playing, sitting down with tea and a magazine, remember towels, don’t feel like trekking downstairs again as I just sat down, get distracted by computer, email, phone rings, blah.

Neighbour kid goes home and they leave, my kids get ansy, I pack them up in the car, we go to Canadian Tire to buy stuff.

Come home, go downstairs, put towels in the dryer and a new load in the washer.

Stupid towels.


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