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.”

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