I'm sitting at work and my cousin calls me. She's staying with me off and on for a few weeks. In fact, amusingly, she's staying at my house without me next week, while I housesit in the woods.
VERY IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE: I want my cousin to actually move in with me at the end of August when one or both of my roommates is leaving. I'm in the thick of sorting through emails from total strangers responding to my craigslist ad who think the house sounds perfect and are just sure we'd get along great. I hate every minute of it and want to live with people I already know and love. So, if you know my cousin and might interact with her sometime soon, please take every opportunity to matter-of-factly say such things as "so, I hear you're moving in with your cousin in Brattleboro! That's so great!" All assistance is greatly appreciated.
Anyway, she calls me (and yes - I know this will shock some of you - I answer my phone). She's looking at my overflowing dirty laundry basket and wonders aloud how many pairs of underwear I own (i.e. how long it's been since I washed clothes), and asks if there are any special instructions for anything in the basket or if she can just throw it all in with her laundry.
Someone else is doing my laundry.
I've done my own laundry since I was about 7 years old. It's really good that very early-on my parents got me used to the idea that it's just one of those things you have to do. Because after 19 years of doing it, it's still a chore I hate and delay as long as possible (answer: I own a LOT of underwear). BUT. Today. Someone else is doing my laundry.
Today is a Good Day.
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