I haven't had a good old whinge about my folding duties for a while, so before I head off to bed I might have a quick old vent. Lest anyone who reads this thinks that I love doing laundry. I don't. I don't hate it but I don't love it either. I like the bit about finding clean, put away and pressed clothes to wear in my wardrobe, but I certainly wouldn't mind if little elves came in the night and folded and put away the washing. Today I folded; two loads of nappies, overpants, bibs and wipeys, a load of tea towells and dusters, sheets and pillowcases, my clothes, Grace's clothes. It was piled sky high, with another load still on the line. It was piled so high, you could see it reflected in the picture on the wall.
At the halfway mark, I whipped out my camera and took some pictures. My irritation subsided a little. Then I got back to super fast folding. That's why it's my job, because I'm so good at it. Then after Grace went to bed, I did the ironing while thinking about what to cook for dinner. I should never let it all back up like this.