No, Amy, There Is No Laundry Fairy

I forced myself to do some laundry on Friday, and some more tonight, mostly by repeatedly muttering "If not now, when? If not you, who?" to myself since I have reluctantly come to accept the fact that while there may be editorial evidence of Santa Claus, there is no evidence — empirical or otherwise — of a laundry fairy. 

So, now I have not only clean towels but also clean t-shirts and pajama pants, which will pretty much be my uniform from Friday through New Year's. 

Some people (read: Cathy) mock me for taking the bulk of my vacation days at the end of December, but I love it. The weather encourages sleeping in and not going anywhere all day, which are two things I greatly enjoy.

Other things I greatly enjoy have been conveniently summarized in the Periodic Table of Sloth, which is one of the many t-shirts wrinkling in the dryer as I type.

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