Hmmmm

I think I might have really lost my mind this time.

I was seeing if the sheets in the dryer were dry. As I touched them and muttered, "I think you're done." Then, I was ridiculing the sheets.

"That's right, I said 'you're done,' so you're done. Don't start up with me! I own you!"

Now, admittedly, these are red, jersey sheets so they do have a bit more fight in them than say a regular cotton sheet, no matter the thread count, but they didn't deserve this.

"In fact," I continued, in my tirade, "I'm going to put you right back on the bed. That's right! No shelf time for talk back sheets! Maybe the next time you'll think before you start flappin' your seams at me!"

I did this the entire time I remade the bed.

This is not the first time I've had "issues" with my laundry. The last time it was my socks, (I forget what the problem was, but they know what they did,) I was on the phone with Di. She listened to me rant and rave (or maybe it was just a car alarm, aha that's for you, Di) for a couple of minutes and then she said, in a big scary voice, "Take that, former Dukes of my feet!"

Yeah, she rocks.

But I'm insane, so take that as you will.

I'm off to punch out the sofa. Wish me luck!