Magic laundry.
Tonight Matt ran the dryer for eighty minutes. Then he opened the dryer and freaked out because the sheets he was drying weren’t in there anymore. Magically disappearing laundry? No, the sheets were on the futon, where I put them this morning because they were dry. The very same futon that we’d been sitting by, practically on top of, for an hour and a half whilst watching television. Apparently one should check the dryer before trying to dry things in it.
The real question: instead of finding this hilarious, I instead feel guilty that I took the sheets out this morning–why are my emotions so clearly broken? And, why am I doing laundry in the morning?