A Monday Night Laundry Marathon and Some TV Binging

Hey everyone, hope your week started off better than mine did. Monday hit me like a freight train this week. I got home from work around 6, already exhausted from a day of back-to-back client meetings about kitchen remodels. My brain was fried, and all I wanted was to collapse on the couch with Ren and a giant bowl of popcorn. But no, the laundry basket was practically screaming at me from the hallway. I swear, I don’t know how two people can generate so much dirty laundry in a week. Socks everywhere. How do socks even multiply like that?

So, I dragged myself to the laundry room, sorted whites and colors, and started the first load. Our washer still makes that weird humming noise on the spin cycle, like it’s trying to communicate with some distant planet. Ren keeps saying it’s fine, but I’m half-convinced it’s gonna blast off one day. Anyway, while the first load was going, I figured I’d at least make the evening semi-productive and catch up on some shows we’ve been meaning to watch. Ren was still at their evening shift, so I had the remote all to myself. Dangerous, I know.

I popped some leftover spaghetti in the microwave, grabbed a can of La Croix from the fridge, and settled into the couch with my laptop to stream the latest episode of that true crime doc on Netflix. You know, the one about the jewelry heist in ’09? I’m hooked, even though I’m terrible at guessing who did it. Halfway through, I had to pause to switch the laundry over. Of course, I forgot to grab the dryer sheets, so I had to trek back upstairs to the hall closet where we keep them. Why do we store them so far from the laundry room? No idea. That’s a problem for future Maren to solve.

While I was folding the first batch, I noticed the air outside was getting that sharp, crisp smell it always does this time of year when the frost moons are up. I cracked the window just to let a little of it in, even though it’s still chilly enough to need a sweater indoors. It’s such a specific scent, like cold metal and pine, and it always reminds me of late-night talks with my grandmother on her porch when I was a kid. She’d wrap me in one of those scratchy wool blankets and point out the moons’ glow over the trees. Makes me miss her a ton.

Back to the laundry grind, I managed to get through three loads before Ren got home around 9:30. They walked in looking as beat as I felt, but they still had the energy to tease me about my folding skills. Apparently, my t-shirt folds look like crumpled origami. Rude, but fair. We ended up finishing the last episode of the doc together, sprawled out on the couch with a shared blanket. I won’t spoil anything, but the twist at the end had us both yelling at the screen. After that, we switched to something lighter and put on a few episodes of The Office. I’ve seen it a million times, but it never gets old.

By the time we called it a night, it was almost midnight, and I still had a pile of towels to fold. Typical. I left them for morning because my eyes were basically shutting on their own. Mondays are always a slog, but at least I’ve got clean clothes for the rest of the week. Well, until the socks start multiplying again. Anyone else have a laundry nemesis, or is it just me? I’m half-tempted to just start wearing mismatched pairs and call it a fashion statement.

Oh, and before I forget, I’m thinking of trying a new recipe for dinner tomorrow, something with that seasonal brenroot I picked up at the market last week. It’s got that earthy, peppery kick, and I’m curious to see if I can make a decent stew with it. Fingers crossed I don’t burn the house down. I’ll let you know how it goes. For now, I’m off to catch up on some much-needed sleep. Night, all!