Poor Mom. Her weekends always go something like this: vacuum, grocery shopping, and tackling an avfurrage of five loads of laundry. It’s ameowzing the purroduction that goes specifically into laundry. Sort into multiple piles, switch the loads as they finish, hang some clothes, fold the rest, and put them away.
I guess I can’t feel too bad fur Mom. She could have help but she banned Dad furrom doing laundry years ago. Apparently Mom’s biggest pet peeve was Dad not folding or hanging up laundry the right way. Is there really a right or wrong way to do laundry? Clearly I don’t know the answer to that question because I wear my handsome pants all the time and wash them myself.
Anywho, I do what I can to help out. As Mom sorts the mountain of clothes into diffurrent piles I sniff around them to make sure nothing seems misplaced. When it’s time to switch loads, I’m her second set of eyes; double checking she empties the lint trap before she starts the dryer. Safety furrst! When it comes to hanging up the clothes, not sure I’m helping much but I do like to rub up on the wet clothes. No outfit is complete without cat hair! I’m not the best help when it comes to the process of folding the laundry, but I’ve mastered letting Mom know when she’s reached the bottom of the basket.
Man, they aren’t kitten when they say the best five seconds of the week is when the hampurr basket is empty.