Highlight of the day:  I woke up to a text that my cousin's baby had been born mere hours before induction was scheduled.  Hooray! 
Baby Duck came home early from school yesterday not feeling well.  I canceled the highlight I was supposed to do for Aunt Taffy (who has been battling the Sinus Infection from the Black Lagoon since 2010) to avoid exposing her to a single possible germ that could set her back in her quest for reasonably un-agitated sinuses.  This also meant that I had to cancel on a Mom's Night Out with my bestie, whom I know was in desperate need of some downtime.  By sunset I had discovered that it was a false alarm- nothing came of the illness and Baby Duck was a-okay.
Got the kiddos to bed and realized just in the nick of time that E needed a load of whites done if he was to have a clean undershirt in the morning.  It was the only load of laundry I had left to do!  So I got it going.
Flash forward to this morning.  Baby Duck chose the route of peaceful resistance upon waking; she simply ignored everything I said and sat on her bed looking at the clothes I had intended for her to put on.  When I did my vocal impression of a cattle prod, she switched modes:  she wanted everything done for her.  "Get me dressed.  Get my toothbrush." And so on.  That doesn't fly when I'm trying to get the garbage to the curb, the dog out to potty, the Ladybug some breakfast, and E on his horse.
This is where it falls apart.  I am four seconds from a mental breakdown when I hear the dryer door get opened.  Only then do I realize that my heroic attempt at rescuing my husband from a certain wardrobe malfunction had failed.  As I hear him go rummage in the hamper, I dash to the washing machine and see the evidence of my inadequacy.  There before me is a pristine load of whites, smelling faintly of bleach... sopping wet.  Doesn't do any good to wash the frakkin' whites if ya ain't gonna dry the suckers, now, does it?!?!  I am out of time.  I fling one white undershirt into the dryer and start it as I am desperately trying to herd my children into the car.  The verbal cattle prod has absolutely no effect at this point.  I actually have the physical sensation of falling down a deep hole.  E tried really hard not to make me feel bad, but there was nothing he could do to mask the magnitude of my ineptitude.  I am a housewife, for Pete's sake!  How is it that I can be bested by a single load of laundry?  Such a simple task!  My Achilles' Heel hath been discovered! 
I give up.  It's time for me to go ogle an adorable newborn.

CL