You see, in less than 90 seconds, Mitch managed to undo what took at least 6+ hours of hard work and effort: my laundry.
I have been waging a war on laundry for months. Years. Well, really, ever since the 2nd child came along. I hate sorting and folding clothes. I don't care who you are, you can only do it so fast. It's a time sucker. It takes hours out of my week that I could otherwise spend doing, oh, I don't know; ANYTHING else!!!! Building a marble run with my kids. Making a home-cooked meal for the 3rd or 4th time in my life. Painting a room in the house. Crafting with my kids. Going for a walk. Relaxing.
I've become so bitter about laundry, that I have gotten rid of 3 trash bags full of it in the past week. I figured, if I went all out, got it all sorted, folded, organized, maybe I could stay on top of it easier. I moved it all into my closet.
My system was going great. I've dressed cute all week. I had reduced the time spent getting dressed in the morning by half!! No more walking between closet, laundry room, bedroom, back to closet just to assemble my outfit for the day. It was so, so beautiful.
Then. Tonight. While I was washing my hands, after changing Diana, he did it. Mitch walked in my closet and pulled EVERY. SINGLE. Piece of clothing off of my shelves. He pulled shoes off the rack. He destroyed so much. He broke my spirit. I'm not sure I can ever face the laundry again. Mine, or the kid's.
So, next time you see me, if you're questioning my style sense. Or the children appear disheveled. You know why. I've simply given up. You win, laundry. You win.