The first month, laundry was a breeze. Walk past the washer, see a load, toss it in the wash. Getting ready for bed, toss it in the dryer. So it went - wash, dry, put away -- after all, the large community "kid closet" is literally next to the laundry room. All I had to do was take the clothes from the dryer, toss into a basket, and step into the closet and hang away.
Why then, I must ask, have I fallen behind and have 4 loads to wash in one day and 10 - yes T-E-N - baskets of clean, unhung clothing to put away? I have no answer. But I was determined to get it done - TODAY.
Off I tromped into the kids' closet, lined with clothing racks and overflowing w/many baskets full of clean clothes awaiting to be placed in their proper home. As I started putting the items away, I noticed the bottom of the boys rack was "separating". I knew this would end badly if not dealt with promptly.
Dropping to my knees, I pushed the clothes aside to see what I was doing. Apparently, such movement unleashed the avalanche. Down came the middle bar onto my forehead, bending my glasses and raking them off my face. Startled by the thunk on my head, I look up just in time to witness the rest of the rack falling forward over me and all, yes all, the clothes tumbling to the ground around me.
Addled and a little befumbled - I slowly unearthed myself from amongst the debris of shirts, pants, shorts, and ties; climbed my way over the baskets of clothes waiting to be hung; and emerged, defeatedly, out of the kids' closet.