Not Exactly A Domestic Goddess…

Six months ago, I lived with my mother.  I didn’t cook dinner.  I didn’t clean toilets.  I didn’t have a mortgage. 

 These days, I like to think of myself in a more domesticated and responsible light.  I cook dinner every night.  I gag when I clean THREE toilets.  My purse has never been so thin.  I clip coupons for cryin out loud. 

 Last night I was feeling a bit of a swagger after I came home from a very productive day of work, contributed in a staff meeting, hit the gym, cooked up a tasty dinner (gnocci and home made tomato sauce), and went food shopping with my handsome husband.  I felt like an adult last night.  In the best way possible. 

And then this morning came.  I was still riding the happy high from last night.  It is four years that we have dated each other today.  He shoveled our driveway while I made him 2 PBJs, an orange, and 5 oreo cookies in his red lunch bag. 

 Then, I felt the wind get sucked right out from under my sails.  Apparently, laundry isn’t my forte.  It’s not exactly a secret that I don’t enjoy doing the clothes.  In fact, I’d rather scrub FOUR toilets.  Seriously.  My husband walked into the kitchen with a lumpy, ball-y, now-bikini-style sweatshirt on.

  I’ve tried everything from drying his sweatshirts separately, to not drying them at all and hanging them to dry.  Yesterday, I thought I was so smart, I only washed his sweatshirts with his sweatshirts. I even bought a lint shaver.  See…

I can’t figure out what I am doing wrong!!  But it’s starting to cause drama.  Somebody help!!! I’m not a laundry professional.  I wash whites with towels.  I mismatch socks.  But the clothes have been okay for the most part.

Exhibit A : The lumpiest sweathshirt ever.

Oh so lumpy. How did this happen?!

Exhibit B :

Arm Lint. It's dusty lint. What gives?

 

  Exhibit B close up:

 

  Exhibit C : 

COME ON!

 

close up (it didn’t even need a close up.  You can see this lint from outer space! :

 Well, there it is folks.  Somebody help me.  Please! xo Mindy