I woke up this morning with the best of intentions. I was going to meet my friends and run our usual 10-20K, starting at a local trail, then go get some coffee. I would then go home and feel accomplished.
What actually happened was not at all my usual Saturday. Oh, it started off normal, of course. I got up with the alarm. I opened the front door to let the cat back in (who had just left an hour and half ago.) He followed me into the bathroom, where I then petted him and looked at my phone for 20 minutes. Realizing I was short on time, I decided to take a shower anyway. I did that. Then I went back to bed, thinking I could just run from my house.
In the time between opening the door for the cat and getting out of bed for the second time (2.5 hours, btw), it turned into a late season winter wonderland. I dressed, I put my key in my pocket, I put my gloves and hat on, started my watch, walked outside, started running, and at about 3/4 of a mile I said to myself "fuck this" and turned around. The snow was blowing in my face and I couldn't see. There were barely any cars on the road and no other runners. No bikers. No dog walkers. Just me and silence and snow. And what felt like 4 degree temperatures. This felt much colder, as we've had an incredibly mild winter so far. I've barely needed a coat.
The SO returned from his run and said it sucked. Yet somehow he managed to power through for over two hours, where as I made it all of 13 minutes. I thought about going to do some sort of indoor activity, but I had a bottle of a local brew that just needed to be consumed immediately. Also, I realized that I had no pants for any type of activity, as we haven't done laundry in a week.
For most two person households, a week without laundry shouldn't involve me sitting around my house in nothing but a teeshirt and some long underwear from 2008. However, with the training programs and the 2-3 workouts a day, 6 days a week, plus full time jobs, it adds up. Looks like 3-4 loads today. I have no more activewear that is clean. No socks. I do have: 12 pairs of jeans that don't fit, an ill fitting ugly dress from old navy with the tags still attached, lots of shorts and tank tops, and a lion costume from Halloween 2012. Let's hope it doesn't come down to me dressing as a sexy lion in March.
So I bit the bullet and started a load of laundry.
And I hate it. It's the worst chore. I don't sort. I put everything in and try to remember to take out things like bras, swimsuits, bike jerseys, bike shorts, bib shorts, and sweaters. Sometimes I forget and then I have to deal with a sweater that has holes in it. I lose socks. Whites are never bright white for too long (I find this to be sad.) Yet, I just don't have the time or patience to want to spend more time doing something so tedious and boring. The folding and putting away of the clean clothes is the most annoying part. When will someone invent a dryer that automatically folds and hangs clothing? Maybe a robot?