No, I’m not being facetious. There is something so relaxing about washing out my boys’ dirty clothes by hand, even the poopie clothes! By the way, I also wondered while doing this: to which generation do I belong? I washed my boys’ clothes by hand and hung them on the line (my mom’s generation), then I emptied the bucket onto my flowers so as not to waste the water (my grandmother’s post-depression generation), and finally I blogged about it all (my generation obviously).
Also Daniel told me last Friday that he loved me for the first time. So. Sweet. He actually said, “Yub jew.”