Getting laundry done in general is a fight in this house, but that's not the fight I'm talking about.
The other night the hubby decided he would fold the laundry. Every night I am exhausted, nauseous, cranky, and pretty much just feeling too done with the day to move. So hubby and I were sitting together on the bed while he was folding. I realize this makes me sound very lucky to have a hubby willing to fold laundry. However, after a while my urge to be cranky overwhelmed me, and I let loose on the poor guy.
My pet peeve when hubby folds the laundry is he doesn't sort it....like at all. All the clothes are mixed in together--my clothes, his clothes, the boys clothes---shirts, pants, it doesn't matter. Hubby also will not put any of the laundry away. So I'll end up with a basket to sort and put away anyway. The last straw though was when I saw that nothing in the piles was going in the same direction. (I'll admit, maybe I'm a little particular!) I at least expect the collars of all the t-shirts in the same direction. After all, this is the same man that at the beginning of our marriage insisted I fold his boxers 3 times at the top and then 3 times up the legs; no other way was acceptable.
So as I said my mean side came out. (I blame the mean side coming out as often as it does these days on the pregnancy). Thankfully Pat did chuckle a bit because some of my points are legit, but I think I've lost his help on the laundry anytime in the near future.