He emerges from the bedroom with wads of cloth in his hands. She knows He’s headed for the laundry room. She stops him. “What are those?” She demands.
He looks baffled and holds them up for her to see. “Dirty socks and jeans,” he says.
She plants her hands on her hips. “Uh-huh. And just where are you going with them?”
He motions toward the door just a few feet away, “I was going to throw them in the laundry room.”
She raises her eyebrows and says, “There are NO dirty clothes in the laundry room. I worked all day to make it that way.”
“Oh,” He says. He grins and tries to edge around her.
She sees him look longingly toward the laundry room. “Let me repeat,” She says. “There are NO dirty clothes in the laundry room.”
“No problem,” He says and puts everything down on the back of the couch.
She reconsiders. “On second thought …”
Why is it the laundry room never stays clean for more than a few hours?