Washing Confessions

I have a war going on in my head, completely in my own little head I'm sure. Its a washing war or more a drying war. A bit of a competition has arisen between myself and the neighbours although they don't know anything about it of course. It's my own private war between me and the race against time that is household chores.

I will explain, you see for as long as I can remember, I have always been the last one to hang my washing out to dry. There it is, I have admitted one of my many failings as domestic goddess extraordinaire. I walked out into the garden yesterday morning, a beautiful sunny fresh spring morning, with crisp blue skies. The birds were tweeting, I was feeling organised armed with my sweet smelling basket. Then frustration and envy took hold as out of the corner of my eye there it was - the neighbours big underpants flapping in the light breeze like a victory flag! She beat me again. Jesus, how early does this women get up? She must must forgo her cup of morning tea and head straight for the damn washing machine. Damn't, I hate having such organised neighbours, making me look so inadequate with my 9:30 hanging (and that's early for me.) Not only that, but actually, as far as the eye can see, I am surrounded by beautiful displays of fresh washing, happily catching the first morning rays adding to my failure.

You see, my washing regularly gets a raw deal, I'm sure it wishes it could belong to another more efficient household far from us, somewhere further down the street or maybe round the corner. I regularly abandon my poor wee washing overnight too. Its 7pm, the kids are in bed (sometimes), most necessary chores are done (usually) and I see it as I am flicking on the kettle. Aah, the silhouettes of the towels just visible in the darkness. Bugger, it can wait till morning. Hey, I can pretend I'm the first one out!!!!!

Washing Confessions