There was a time when I loved Mondays.
The fresh beginning of the week.
I don't quite remember when that was though.
Weekends are suppose to be the time when you relax from the work week, right?
Not around here.
Here we go gangbusters and then are cross eyed on Mondays.
Hence, no laundry done around here on Mondays.
Today I came home from work to find that my dear hubby had done the laundry.
He is so very good.
He hangs everything that he figures I don't want going through the dryer.
Sorts them by color and hangs them.
Then he brings them in ... folded.
He gets highly annoyed when clothes aren't folded straight out of the dryer.
He detests wrinkles as much as I do.
So I walked out into the backyard upon coming home to see this.
And I smiled.
Then I took a closer look.
Those birds flying around have a lot of nerve.
Can they please find somewhere other than my clean scrubs to poop on?!