On Being Exhausted
I came home the other day to find that Ben had washed this quilt with a tapestry that his mom had brought back from India and that the tapestry had bled all over my handmade quilt (in his defense, his mom had said that she had already washed the tapestry and used a color-catching sheet). Needless to say, I was not a happy camper when I saw my quilt on the laundry room floor with blotches of red all over it. And I was less happy when a couple capfuls of synthrapol and two hot washes didn't solve the problem as it had last time. And so as we were heading to bed that night Ben turned to me and asked "are you mad?" to which I answered "honestly, I'm too exhausted to be mad."
Who knew that my returning to work would work out so well for Ben.