GIVE ME A BREAK

Let me preface this post by telling you, that I am an ASSHOLE. I know this so you do not need to tell me, think it, or comment about it even (although all comments are welcome). I just woke up in the middle of a 30 Rock episode, as I tend to do these days. After having overeaten and not finished an episode I am usually grumpy, haul my ass up to the second floor that feels like an inferno (no ac), make a lames ass attempt to brush my teeth (no flossing sorry) and go to bed. I know regular adults do not go to sleep at 9:40pm, but I cannot get over this hump. It may be the excess sugar and dairy that I consume (think a week's worth per day), the babies that wake me up all night long, the tension of being responsible for 40 plus campers per day, I do not know. But I digress, I woke up in the middle of a 30 Rock episode, enlightened. I had laundry in the washer that had to be transferred to the dryer and I said "fuck that shit, like Twisted Sister, I am not going to take it anymore!" It is not my laundry, it is my brother's laundry. Yes, he is 32, on vacation, not handicap, and I do his laundry. WHAT THE FUCK is wrong with me? What killed me about today's load, is that I already did it, last night. It was a bag of wet, smelly, rotten clothes and despite the soak cycle, the almond soap, the lavender dryer sheets, it still stank post wash. I wrote him an email telling him to come get it because I can hardly move in my apt, there is so much crap... he came. I did not open at first because I was waist high in dinner, bath, bed, V, my 4th bather SHITTING in the bath as he came out (when there is crap in the tub, on the baby and on you, where the fuck do you wash the baby I ask). I incorrectly thought it was F, and thought USE YOUR KEYS. I was wrong, it was my brother, who to be fair was coming to get his crap. But he didn't. Because I, in the midst of solo tending to the demanding quartet, stopped, to REDO his laundry. I deserve a medal. And a monument. More on my horrendous day and adorable kids tomorrow.